


The Hands-On Sexual Education of Yuri Plisetsky

by annabeth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst, Anorexia, Barebacking, Bathing/Washing, Beka is the only adult, Blasphemy, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Bukkake, Catholic Guilt, Cheating/Infidelity, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Come Eating, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Docking, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Anal Penetration, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Felching, Gags, Homophobic Language, JJ's massive ego, M/M, Makeup on Boys, Masochism, Masturbation, Mental Illness, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Object Insertion, Open Relationships, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orientation Discovery, Pain Kink, Phone Sex, Piercings, Polyamory, Public Sex, Restraints, Rimming, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Shaving, Skype, Snowballing, So Very Much Porn, Sounding, Spitroasting, Tattoos, Threesome - M/M/M, Uncircumcised Penis, Underage - Freeform, Underage Drinking, Violence, Voyeurism, YOI Shit Bang 2017, YOIShitBang2017, Yuri is a little shit, coming dry, did I mention the porn?, so much porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 119,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: "Holy Mother," [Viktor] exclaims, "Yuri Plisetsky, did you have a fucking threeway with your rival figure skaters?"Or, the fic in which Yuri Plisetsky is an emotionally constipated nymphomaniac idiot who has two boyfriends, but doesn't realize it about either of them. There's Beka, who already loves him, but never seems to get him alone; and JJ, who might like him a lot more than he's letting on, and introduces Yuri to both penetrative intercourse and double penetration. Then there's the fact that both Beka and JJ will go to extreme lengths to make Yuri happy—and to turn him on. And kinks. Lots and lots of kinks. JJ is a kinky fuck, and he is corrupting Yuri in all sorts of delicious ways—with some help from Beka. (See warnings.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadesofhades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/gifts), [Ashii Black (ashiiblack)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashiiblack/gifts), [Icicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icicle/gifts).



> I've stolen way too many things from popular culture to list. If you recognize a quote, or a lyric, or a reference, it's not mine and it belongs to the original creator. This is the cheat sheet disclaimer because I also don't remember them all anymore and the fic is a monster. If you think something needs to be actively credited, feel free to say so in the comments!
> 
> This fic would definitely and absolutely not exist without the cheerleading of Ashii Black, Icicle, and ShadesofHades. The ongoing beta was provided by ShadesofHades. Additional notes and comments provided by Ashii Black and Icicle. Those times I almost gave up: yeah. This is for you guys. I ♥ you guys.
> 
> Written for the YoI Shit Bang on Tumblr. Had I known this would end up being over 100K, I might have reconsidered, lol.
> 
> Extra special thanks to Ashii Black in breaking it up into chapters for me!

**Prologue**

Leaving the ice for the last time during the 2013-2014 Grand Prix Final circuit, Yuri is flushed with equal parts happiness and arousal. He's just completed his exhibition skate, a rousing number called Welcome to the Madness wherein he performed a sexy striptease designed to rile up all of his Yuri Angels.

And maybe one leather-jacket wearing friend. Said friend who chose his incredibly dangerous, sexy-sounding music.

"Beka!" he says, throwing himself at his new— _best_ —friend, laughing as Otabek Altin catches him in his arms. "Did you see that? We were _fantastic_. I bet all the girls' panties melted!" He knows he's being too exuberant, that he's almost manic in his excitement, but he can't bring himself to care.

Tomorrow all the headlines will be about Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin—and their delicious, dirty program that has _definitely_ outshone that stupid fat piggy and washed up skater pretending to be a coach. Yes, the pictures are going to be Yuri's hand in Beka's mouth as Beka tears his glove off with his teeth.

"Yura," Otabek says, barely cracking a smile. So stoic and mysterious—Yuri loves it. Right now he loves everything. Well, except maybe the fat piggy.

"Try to calm down," Beka adds, running a hand down Yuri's back—his warm hands smooth over bits of bare skin where Yuri's shirt is ripped and it's electrifying. Yuri turns his face up to Beka's, and there is not only hot desire in his eyes, but Beka's leather pants are _not_ leaving much to the imagination.

"I was amazing," Yuri repeats, getting lost in Beka's eyes. It reminds him of last night, after they'd gone shopping and picked out his clothes for the exhibition, when Beka had willingly taken Yuri's pair of scissors and sexed up his shirt. "Beka," he breathes, "did I melt _your_ panties?"

Beka's cheeks tinge rouge, but he squeezes Yuri for a second; he presses his pelvis up against Yuri until he can feel Beka's half-hard cock. Yuri's breath whooshes out of him; all of a sudden _his_ pants are too tight.

"Tonight," he says on a gasp, "meet me on Skype."

He's lucky to get the words out, because at that moment Lilia strides up.

"Time to go, Yura. We have media appearances to do."

Yuri leaves Beka's arms reluctantly, eyes locked on him for as long as he can before they're out of sight.

&~&

**Room 443, Official Grand Prix Final hotel, Barcelona, Spain; 1:32 a.m., December 15**

"Oh my God, Beka," Yuri cries, fisting his cock. He's so close, his body so ready, his lips wet and bitten and one finger in his ass. It's late at night, too late to wander the halls without Viktor or Yakov giving him hell, so he has to resort to Skype to get as much of Beka as he can—including this.

"Yeah," Beka says, his face scrunched up, obviously close to orgasm as well.

"Come with me," Yuri pleads, wishing he had his best friend's fingers in his ass instead of his own. He and Otabek have never shared this in person—not yet. But maybe soon…

"Ah!" Beka gasps. His camera shifts so Yuri can see, and Yuri's eyes are blurred with tears and sweat from his own impending orgasm, and he wonders how Beka has the focus to rearrange his phone. But Yuri is desperately glad he did; Beka's cock is bobbing against his belly, ropes of jizz landing on his bare abs and chest.

"Oh my God, _Beka_ ," Yuri barely manages to get out, before he's making his own mess all over himself. Dammit. He's going to have to dry clean his robe again—not for the first time he wishes it weren't silk. The towel he laid down has protected the precious leopard print from the lube he's using, but he's never jizzed as hard as this, Skyping with Beka, and it's all over his chest—and his collar, next to his face. Not even his first orgasm, when he was younger, was as powerful as this.

"Yura?"

"Shit, I've gotta clean up." Yuri wipes his lubed and sticky fingers on the towel, then rolls off the couch onto his feet, balling up the towel for the maids to collect.

He stops in the bathroom to scrub the come off of himself, then quickly disrobes and throws on a t-shirt that's a little too small and some pajama pants. He realizes about a second too late that, in his hurry, he forgot underwear. Oh well. It doesn't matter. He's pretty sure he forgot to pack enough and they're all dirty, anyway.

"Beka? You still there?" he calls as he trots back into the main room. His friend flashes a thumbs-up, and Yuri smiles. One of the rare ones he saves just for Beka. Not to mention, coming always makes him more relaxed, even… happy.

But then his doorbell rings, and Yuri feels his anger blossom all over again.

"What the fuck? Yuri says, going over to answer the door. He makes sure to look through the peephole, then throws the door open in disgust.

"What the _fuck_ , JJ?" he repeats, trying to keep the volume down while properly expressing his fury.

"Hello, kitten," JJ grins, stepping past the threshold without being invited and turning, glancing down the hall, and the shutting the door with a definitive click. "Sounds like you were having some fun, but all by your lonesome, huh? I could help with that."

"What makes you think I _want_ your help?" Yuri says, hoping he doesn't sound like he's considering it. The problem is, he kinda is. There's a little voice in his brain saying, _if you do it with JJ, it won't mean anything, won't matter if you suck, and then maybe it will be better with Beka later_. Yuri does what he does with most things: he acts impulsively, heeding the little voice that is _definitely_ not looking out for his best interests.

"Because a fierce tiger kitten was keeping me up, and I wanted a taste," JJ drawls, stupid Canadian accent _really fucking annoying_.

"God," Yuri scoffs, "You do know I'm only fifteen, right?"

"Not a problem where I'm from," JJ says, all smarm that he probably thinks is charm.

"We're in _Spain_ , idiot, not Canada," Yuri growls. "Take your horny ass somewhere else."

"Kitten," JJ purrs, making Yuri crazy, "you were loud enough to wake the dead. And," he adds, pointing to Yuri's sweatpants, "you're still half-hard. Trust the King, kitten, it's always better with a partner than solo."

"I've never had a problem with it," Yuri says pointedly. But JJ cups Yuri's chin in one hand and raises his head so that they're looking directly in each other's eyes. He walks forward, urging Yuri back, towards the couch.

"You've probably never… You haven't, have you?" JJ caresses Yuri's cheek. "Still baby-soft. Almost too young to be wanking. S'okay, though, just let King JJ take care of you."

"Ick!" Yuri cries, swatting at JJ's hand. "I'm no baby! And I've—"

"No, you haven't." 

JJ is so fucking damn sure of himself, Yuri can't stand it—can't stand it even more that he's _right_. "You make me sick, JJ, I—"

In one smooth, obviously practiced move, JJ is on him, hand curling around the back of Yuri's neck, lips warm, pliant, and devilishly delicious on his. Yuri wants to bite, to throw him off, but the kiss is… much more than pleasant. It's rather earth-shattering, actually.

Next thing Yuri knows, he's on his back on the couch, JJ half-bent over him with one knee pushing Yuri's thighs apart. Yuri's damn cock likes this very much—too much. It's like JJ knows, too, exactly which buttons to push, and where; how to kiss Yuri like he's drowning, and give Yuri his thigh to rut up against.

Yuri isn't even sure why he's not fighting harder. It's not like he's averse to the idea of being fucked, and stupid JJ is fucking good at it so far. But still…

Yuri puts his palms on JJ's chest and heaves with all his strength; JJ lets his mouth go, leans back.

"Can't take it, kitten? I bet you can dish it out, though. Would you like to try?"

Yuri is suspicious. "Try _what_ , exactly?"

"Whatever you want," JJ says with a smug quirk of the lips.

"Fine." Yuri scrambles out from beneath JJ, watching the smug fucker as he leaves the room. Feeling devilish, he brings back the towel he'd been using earlier.. "On the couch," he orders, and JJ shrugs and complies. He's going to _regret_ underestimating Yuri. Most people do. Yuri kneels on the couch, limber enough to plant on knee on either side of JJ's thighs, and holds up the towel to show JJ. "Open your mouth."

"Kitten, this is getting a little kinky for you, isn't it?" JJ's eyes are guileless, but his cock is hard, straining at the fly of his jeans. Yuri smiles, wicked.

"If it gets you to shut up," Yuri says, "I can handle that. You talk too much, and most of what you say is pointless."

JJ's eyes widen a little, maybe hurt?—but Yuri doesn't want to think about that too hard. He crams as much of the towel as he can into JJ's mouth. "No talking," he says, "not even _trying_ to talk. Do you understand? If you want me in your pants, you'll obey me."

JJ raises his eyebrows, as if to say, _Jesus, what a little prima donna you are,_ but Yuri points to the gag.

"Nothing, you hear me? No silent conversation, either! Unless I ask for a response. Got it?"

JJ nods. Yuri reaches down, hooks his fingers into JJ's belt. "I'm taking this off," he tells JJ, "and then your jeans, and you'll help me. Yes?"

Another nod, and Yuri unbuckles JJ's belt, pulling it through the loops and off; JJ lifts his butt to assist and Yuri tosses the belt onto the floor somewhere. Distantly, some part of his brain reminds him that he'll probably step on the buckle and hurt his feet, but he'll worry about that later.

Yuri flips the button out of the hole on the fly of JJ's jeans, pausing for just a second to ghost the back of his hand along the length of JJ's powerful erection.

Using his teeth to tug down JJ's zipper would probably blow JJ's mind—and Yuri kind of, secretly wants to, to be the best JJ's ever had, virginity or no—but he's never done that before and he doesn't want to look foolish. Right now, he has JJ at his mercy, and he doesn't want to ruin that.

JJ rolls his hips a little, and Yuri raises an eyebrow, curling his lip. He smacks JJ lightly across the crotch, and is stupidly surprised when JJ arches a little, an involuntary noise breaking through the gag.

"You _liked_ that?" Yuri curls his hand around JJ's hard-on, digging his fingers into JJ's thigh. "You _are_ kinky fucker," he says, trying to sound disdainful and not filled with a kind of sick wonder. He's not sure _he_ would have liked to have his cock abused, even gently.

Yuri hates himself for being gentle, so he squeezes JJ roughly; this does not have the desired effect: JJ shudders all over, and a small wet splotch begins to grow at the apex of his jeans. Yuri lets JJ go, swiping his hand across his mouth—and smears a little bit of JJ's precome across his lips. Whether he means to or not, JJ gives a tiny little moan, and Yuri is fairly certain his lips are shining.

"You're leaking like a whore," Yuri says. "Fucking pervert."

But Yuri's own dick is fully-hard now, pushing out the fabric of his pajama pants, and this reminds Yuri that he's still dressed. He points to JJ's gag.

"Not a word," he commands, because he doesn't want JJ to do something like… laugh… when Yuri takes his clothes off.

JJ's blue eyes are bright and _way_ too innocent looking as Yuri quickly strips out of his pajama pants. He searches around for a minute; the lube bottle had rolled on the floor before, and he finds it triumphantly. He lays it next to JJ's denim-clad thigh and climbs on top of him. He gives JJ a wicked look and then, quickly, he unzips him. He barely has to move JJ's jeans out of the way before his cock pops out, a little bit larger and thicker than Yuri was expecting—though he probably should have, considering the size of JJ's ego. He has a moment to wonder at the lack of underwear, and then he's back to the task at hand.

"You think you can fuck me without making a sound?" Yuri asks, arching his back, arms over his head, which pushes his chest out. His shirt is damp and sticking to him; his lower half is decadently bare, his own stiff cock bouncing against his belly, leaving behind a slick trail of fluid on his skin.

JJ blinks slowly and deliberately, and Yuri accepts that as an affirmative. He retrieves the lube, uncapping the bottle and squirting some onto his fingers. He grants JJ a peek at his eyes through his eyelashes, aping innocent even as he reaches behind him and finds his hole.

He fingers himself on the outside lightly for a second, then settles his ass down on JJ's thighs, spreading his knees wide and bending backwards until he's staring at the ceiling as he slowly pushes two fingers past his rim—still puffy from before—and begins to scissor them, widening his entrance; he's going to need a little extra prep after seeing the size of what he's going to be taking.

JJ's thighs tremble beneath Yuri; he might be a teenager, but he's not _actually_ innocent—Russian porn is pretty informative, and Yuri is sure he presents a delectably tempting picture the way he's straddling JJ, fingers deep in his ass.

Yuri's breathing quickens, and his heart follows suit as his body begins to relax and prepare for JJ's intrusion.

He's ready, actually; three fingers plumbing his hole, stretched and sopping with lube from his fingers.

Inhaling deeply, Yuri pulls his fingers free and straightens, pouring more lube into his palm and using it to grease JJ's dick for easy entry.

The apples of JJ's cheeks are red and he's sweating heavily, his fists clenched against the couch by his head, obviously trying hard not to reach for Yuri.

"Good boy," Yuri says, and then he lifts up and wiggles his ass into position. One hand grasping the shaft of JJ's cock, Yuri angles it towards him, and then he takes and releases a deep breath, relaxing his muscles and sinking down onto JJ.

JJ can't control the moan that bursts out of him, and Yuri is too busy being filled to punish him for the noise.

"Bet you thought I couldn't take it," Yuri says, voice broken from the feel of JJ inside him. JJ's dick is throbbing an almost violent tattoo against Yuri's inner walls, and Yuri locks his thigh muscles and swallows up the last inches of JJ's cock until his ass is flush to JJ's thighs. "Touch my dick," Yuri orders, through uneven breaths.

Yuri rocks back and forth slightly, impaled on JJ's cock. It feels _amazing_ , totally different from his own fingers—much bigger, hotter, _harder_. Yuri bites his lower lip and begins to move in earnest; he uses his powerful skater's muscles to lever himself upwards and then he drops back down; JJ's hand moving softly over his dick, driving him to distraction with insincere touches.

"Fist me," Yuri orders through a sharp gasp. "I want your fist squeezing my cock tightly, don't you know how it _works_?"

JJ rolls his eyes, and Yuri smacks him across the chest, deliberately catching JJ's nipple, which is poking through his shirt, with his hand. JJ rewards him for this abuse with an aborted thrust upward, his cock shifting and swelling against Yuri's passage.

Yuri's strong, and he's young, so he has plenty of energy for fucking himself up and down on JJ's dick. JJ finally grips Yuri's cock and jacks him so fast that his foreskin bunches up and then slides down to expose the tip of Yuri's cock, slit dripping precome onto JJ's fist.

Even as far into Yuri's depths as JJ is, Yuri can feel the way JJ's slippery cock twitches, and the way it rubs against his soft inner walls is intoxicating; JJ's leaking precome into Yuri's ass, every time he heaves himself upward, it drips out of him. The lube isn't even necessary anymore with the way JJ's slicking his passage.

"Are you close, huh?" Yuri goads. "What if I don't let you come? What if I tell you that you can't come until I say so?"

JJ's body is filled with involuntary tremors beneath Yuri, his muscles quivering where he's pressed against Yuri.

"No, _King_ JJ," he says mockingly, "you may not come until I tell you to."

JJ's face screws up, like he's already almost there, and desperate for it; but Yuri lifts off him a little—not enough to unseat his cock—and reaches down between his legs, finding first JJ's balls, which he rolls in his hands—tight already—and then wraps his hand around the base of JJ's cock and squeezes. JJ bucks a little, his body straining, but Yuri has effectively staved off JJ's orgasm.

He slides down JJ's length again, as far as he can go without moving his hand. "I wish I had a cock ring," he muses, as he continues to fuck himself on JJ's massive cock.

JJ's eyes widen; good, let him be surprised by the extent of Yuri's knowledge about sex and porn.

"God, _fuck_ ," Yuri cries, speeding up; JJ drives his hips upward, slamming further into Yuri, until Yuri growls at him. "Settle down," he snaps. " _I'm_ in charge here, not you, and don't you forget it."

He slams his body downward, and even though it crushes his hand, he holds himself there, slender body shaking, as he uses his weight to keep JJ in place. Yuri's pretty sure JJ's own skater muscles could _make_ him move, if he wanted to, but JJ seems to have regained some of his control over his body. Yuri folds himself over JJ, which tugs him slightly off JJ's dick, and keeps his hand tight around the base of JJ's cock. JJ's breath is hot and fast against Yuri's bare belly, as he holds them both briefly in stasis.

But despite everything, Yuri's getting overworked, and he's almost to the crest of that mountain himself. Taking as deep a breath as he can, Yuri lets go of JJ's cock, straightens back up, seats himself fully on JJ, and groans.

"Jack me, JJ," Yuri pants, beginning to lose the last vestiges of his control. "You can come when I do— _and not a moment before_ ," he says.

JJ's hand speeds up on his cock, thumb flicking over Yuri's slit, spreading precome down over his length, pumping him up and down so fervently that his foreskin keeps pulling back to expose him. Yuri catches his breath in his throat, falls forward a little, balancing his palm on JJ's chest as his body clamps down around JJ filling him up so deliciously.

"Okay—ah—come _now_ ," Yuri yells, losing his ability to modulate the volume of his voice. JJ shakes underneath him, and Yuri opens his eyes—he didn't even realize they were closed—and he happens to lock gazes with JJ's blue ones just as they both hurtle over the edge.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Yuri chants, feeling his cock spurt over JJ's hand, paint JJ's chest with white streaks.

His ass muscles are clenching and releasing around JJ as his dick spasms inside him, buried all the way to the hilt, and Yuri nearly bites through his lip at how good it feels—there's something so _primal_ about the sensation of JJ's jizz flooding him.

Yuri collapses onto JJ's chest, and with the last bit of his strength, he tugs the dirty towel from JJ's mouth.

"Just think, kitten," JJ says lazily through puffs of breath, "you're not a virgin anymore."

"I should put the gag back in your mouth," Yuri shoots back. "Do you always have to be so obnoxious?"

"I'll let you know next time," JJ says with an exaggerated wink. "You need experience, kitten. Let me show you what to do. We'll try even kinkier stuff later."

"You think I'm doing this with you more than once?" Yuri asks, incredulous.

"Once you go royal, you stay loyal," JJ says. Yuri stares at him somewhat stupidly for a minute, then musters the energy to grab one of the couch pillows and whap JJ with it.

"Let's talk for a minute about how you get off on pain, you deviant," Yuri hurls at him. JJ just laughs a little. His fingers have found their way to the back of Yuri's skull, and he's ruffling the sweaty, loose blonde hair there.

Yuri will _never_ , upon pain of losing gold at next year's Grand Prix Final, admit to the fact that it feels sweetly nice, relaxing him everywhere.

"Don't go to sleep with my cock still in your ass, kitten," JJ says, stroking down the nape of his neck through his hair. "You'll regret it."

"Right," Yuri concedes, lifting his ass until JJ's softening cock slips free. Then he flops back down onto JJ, eyes closing; he's fighting to stay awake, to kick JJ out of his hotel room, but he can tell he's going to lose the battle.

His last thought before he passes out, completely, on _top_ of JJ, is that at least the cocky fucker has a room next door—for ease of sneaking out in the morning.

&~&

**Room 443**

It's yet another knock on the door that wakes Yuri from his way-too-contented slumber on JJ's chest and body. His face is stuck to JJ's chest with drool, against a spot where JJ's shirt has slid to the side, leaving Yuri's cheek pressed against bare skin.

"Gah," Yuri says. Then the knock comes again, and Yuri pushes himself upward, stumbling to his feet.

JJ, the idiot, is snoring lightly and hasn't even moved; he apparently sleeps like the dead, which makes a liar out of him when it comes to having listened to Yuri jerk off last night.

It isn't until Yuri opens the door that he remembers Beka. Who is currently standing in the hall in a rumpled t-shirt, boxers, slippers, and sex-tousled hair. His eyes are sleepy, his mouth shining. Yuri throws a quick glance over his shoulder, wondering how to get rid of Beka without his friend noticing JJ snoring on the couch.

"You needn't bother," Beka says in a gravelly, sleep-roughened tone. "I know you have JJ in there."

"But, how? No, wait. What are you doing here? Your room is on the seventh floor! And it's the middle of the night!"

"I just ended up here," Beka replies. "Yura… why is your head upside down?"

"Are you _drunk_?" Yuri asks. Beka shakes his head, but his eyes are glassy.

"I may've emptied the minibar of sherry," Beka confides in that whisper drunk people do, that is actually much louder than they think it is.

"Well, you're drunk, so you're imagining things—JJ's not here." Yuri tries to shut the door, but Beka pushes on it, causing Yuri to stumble backward.

"I know he's in there," Beka mumbles, alcoholic breath washing over Yuri. "You forgot, Yura. We were on Skype. I watched…" Beka gulps. "W-watched you with JJ." Now there's bright pain in Beka's eyes.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Yuri swears, grabbing Beka's shirt and hauling him into the room. "C'mon, you can sleep it off in my bed." _And then, by the time you wake up, I'll have gotten rid of JJ and I'll just tell you it was a drunken nightmare._

Yuri's not proud of his immediate inclination towards dishonesty, but he wants to erase the hurt stamped on Beka's face.

"I thought… Yura, I got the impression I was going to be first."

"It's not a competition for 'likes' or 'comments' on the internet," Yuri says, kind of disgusted with the idea. "You don't have to yell 'first!', you know."

"But, Yura, you fucked _JJ_. You _hate_ JJ."

This is all true but… "It didn't mean anything! It was just mindless sex."

"'Just mindless sex'?" Beka mimics. "I just thought that… that _we_ would…"

"We still _can_ ," Yuri says desperately. "It's not as if I actually _like_ JJ, so it shouldn't matter."

"But it _does_ matter, Yura. Don't you have a higher opinion of yourself than that?" Beka puts both hands on Yuri's shoulders and walks him back up against the wall. He traps him there with his body, looming over Yuri a bit. Yuri wants to tell him that of course he does, that he's the best skater in the Grand Prix Final, but that his virginity was just a liability that he couldn't wait to get rid of, anyway. Even if Yakov and his grandpa would probably both be appalled.

But Beka has a point, unfortunately. Yuri _had_ been messing around with Beka on Skype, and after his initial decision to practice on JJ, he'd entirely forgotten Beka: and not only his existence, but the fact that he'd still been on the computer when Yuri had become a cockslut for JJ. Jesus. No wonder Beka has that look on his face.

"I was only _practicing_ ," Yuri begins, working up to an explanation of epic proportions—but is stopped in his tracks by Beka's hot mouth descending on his.

This, he and JJ didn't do. And even though Beka's breath and saliva tastes like sherry, Yuri doesn't think he's getting drunk secondhand; he's getting drunk off the kiss.

This is his first _real_ kiss—one that actually means something. It's kind of weird to think about how, despite how much further he'd gone with JJ last night, he could still have this last piece of himself to give. He breaks away from Beka, turning his head away.

"That was only my second kiss," Yuri mumbles. Yuri tries to extricate himself from the prison of Beka's arms, but Beka's too strong.

"Then I'll have to teach you how to do it better," Beka promises. Yuri shivers. But their intimate moment is interrupted when JJ, that asshole, wanders over.

"Are you saying I sucked?!" Yuri asks.

"Maybe _I'll_ teach him how to be a better kisser," JJ says cockily. Yuri glares at him from over Beka's shoulder. "And no, kitten, you didn't suck when _I_ did it."

"I don't even _like_ you," Yuri says nastily. Beka's hands flex on Yuri's shoulders, reminding him that he's quite captive at the moment.

"Be nice, Yura," Beka says slurring a little. "I don't like him either but he's kinda hot."

"Of course I'm hot," JJ gloats, "I'm King JJ! I'm not just an exceptional figure skater, I'm a rockstar."

"One song written for you doesn't—"

"Aw, kitten," JJ cuts in, "you wound me. Didn't you come all over me last night while stuffed to the brim with my cock?"

"Gross," Yuri says, wrinkling his nose. Beka glances back.

"That is gross," Beka agrees.

"Think you can do any better?" JJ goads. He plasters himself to Beka's back and leans over his shoulder, ducking in for what Yuri thinks is probably supposed to be a kiss—if not for the fact that Yuri puts his hand up between their faces, and JJ's lips wind up on his palm.

"I can promise you, JJ, he'll forget about you eventually. But he won't forget me. _I'm_ actually his friend."

"I wonder how much he can take," JJ muses, nipping at Yuri's palm before pulling back.

"Get off me," Beka growls. He rolls his shoulders to try to dislodge JJ.

"What do you say, kitten?" JJ asks, ignoring Beka. "How much can you fit into that greedy, tight little ass of yours?"

"What are you saying?" Yuri asks, narrowing his eyes. JJ flashes his trademark obnoxious grin.

"Otabek," JJ says, slimy as an eel, "do you want to know what it feels like inside that silky ass?" He grinds up against Beka, and that's when Yuri realizes things are about to get _real_. JJ is ready for round two, and Yuri knows how competitive Beka is: there's no way that Beka will let JJ fuck Yuri again, this time in his presence.

"No," Yuri says, shaking his head. His hair falls into his eyes. He's suddenly, stupidly aware that he's standing there in nothing but a shirt, with splooge dried on his stomach.

Beka steps away from Yuri, forcing JJ to back up a few steps.

"Yura," Beka says, "I'm not letting him fuck you alone."

Yuri had a feeling that was coming. JJ's face shifts into that arrogant grin.

"Otabek," he says smoothly, "I'm not willing to just bow out gracefully. I think I've adopted this little kitten, now."

"Oh, you have not," Beka says, sounding a bit less drunk and a little more possessive. "Yura was _mine_ first."

"Hey," Yuri says, "I'm right here. And I do not _belong_ to anyone. Also—"

But JJ talks over Yuri as if, despite the fact that they're fighting over _him_ , he isn't even there.

"Technically _I_ had him first, considering I fucked him just a few hours ago."

"How do you know that Yura and I didn't—"

"Because I heard him through the wall," JJ explains. "He was by himself… and calling out your name. You've only known him what, three days? We were at _Skate Canada_ together."

"When did you do it, Yura? Give your virginity to him? At Skate Canada, or last night?" Beka sounds unbelievably jealous.

"It's certainly nice for you to remember I'm still here," Yuri says rudely. "And it was last night. Jesus. I hate his stupid guts."

"If you hate me so much, kitten, why did you sleep all curled up in my arms?"

"Obviously a mistake, one I won't be repeating," Yuri bites out. "Stop it. I don't wanna be part of this pissing contest."

"Now that's an interesting idea," JJ remarks lazily. Yuri stares up into those devious blue eyes.

"I'm no Russian hooker," he snaps. "I don't do that sort of thing."

"But what sort of thing _do_ you do, kitten? Do you wanna know what it's like…" JJ lowers his voice to a whisper, but keeps Beka part of the conversation, "...to be so completely filled you can't breathe? What it's like to have two cocks inside you, rubbing one against the other all while stroking you from the inside out?"

Yuri gasps, suddenly short of air. He can't tell if that sounds terrifying… or amazing. Fuck.

"I'm not going to misuse him like that," Beka announces, before leaning against the wall like his legs may have gone a bit rubbery.

"Oh, he'll enjoy every second," JJ assures Beka, "and so will you."

"I wanna know what it's like," Yuri says, making another snap decision. He's probably going to regret it later, like he already regrets sleeping with JJ, but the fucker made it sound exciting—and irresistible. And Yuri really _can't_ resist a challenge.

"Yura, are you sure?" Beka's still leaning heavily against the wall. "I mean… wait." He casts a glance around, and JJ does a thumbs up.

"Imagine it, Otabek," he says in a silky tone. "You could be _balls deep_ inside Yuri-chan, here, and won't it feel divine to be able to rub your cock against mine _at the same time_?"

Beka lists a little bit to the side; Yuri rather suspects the sherry he drank is really beginning to cloud his senses. Yuri is way too self-centered to consider this is as a disadvantage—though Beka probably would, if their positions were reversed—and he sidles up to Beka.

"Beka," he murmurs, his voice coming out throaty and very, _very_ aroused; his cock is already half-hard and he glues himself to Beka, hitching his hips back and forth. Behind him, he can hear JJ whistle.

"Sexy as fuck, kitten," JJ says approvingly. Yuri is focusing on Beka, though. He wants Beka to feel good—and to forgive him.

"I don't care about your opinion." Yuri glowers. He runs his fingertip along the seam of Beka's lips.

"I forgot what we were arguing about," Beka mumbles. He's heavy and solid against Yuri, and his arms are loosely wrapped around Yuri, at the small of his back. Just above his bare ass.

Yuri reaches behind him and catches one of Beka's hands, sliding it down until Beka agreeably cups his ass. Yuri goes up on his tiptoes, grinding into Beka, and Beka complies with the movement by pulling Yuri up against him.

"As cozy as this is," JJ says, "I'm not the type to let myself be left out." And then there's another large hand on the other buttock, JJ caressing it with his thumb and forefinger. But unlike Beka, who's rather drunkenly gripping him, JJ soon parts Yuri's ass and delves inside with his fingers.

Thankfully, there's still some lube coating his hole, because JJ jams two fingers upwards, and Yuri goes _en pointe_ in surprise.

"Oh, that's beautiful, kitten," JJ says. "Now, push back against me…"

Yuri drops back down to his feet, flat on the floor, and the downward motion drives JJ's fingers even deeper inside. His head falls onto Beka's shoulder, and, without intending to, he bites Beka at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"Yura!" Beka is suddenly on board, it seems, rutting forward, and his dick is definitely interested where it digs into Yuri's belly. "Oh…"

"Yes," Yuri whimpers, ashamed of the sound, but unable to help himself. Where JJ was just a quick and dirty fuck, Yuri's _feelings_ keep overwhelming him where it comes to Beka.

His best friend seems to feel the same way; his lips are against Yuri's temple, and he licks at the sweat forming there.

"Fuck," JJ grounds out, still behind Yuri, his fingers doing wicked things as they plunge back and forth into Yuri. "You look so fucking hot like this, draped all over Otabek. Yeah." JJ is suddenly flush against Yuri's back, fingers still working in and out even as he cants his hips up so that his arousal is buried in the small of Yuri's back, thrusting up underneath his shirt.

"Fuck," Yuri echoes, his body beginning to overheat from all the stimulation. Sweat pools at the base of his spine and in the vee of his collarbones, and the dampness makes it entirely too easy for JJ to thrust up against Yuri's bare back.

The roughness of his jeans is abrasive against Yuri's skin, but somehow that makes everything more exciting; makes Yuri hyper-aware of his body and his mounting arousal.

"Yura," Beka whispers against the crown of his head. Yuri can only imagine how matted his hair must be now, from all the sweat and sex.

"I want you to take me," Yuri murmurs to Beka. But JJ's chin is balanced on the top of Yuri's head, and he can hear every word anyway.

"Not without me, kitten," JJ says, also softly. For long seconds, only their sex-roughened breaths can be heard as the three of them seek friction for their individual erections. Then JJ adds, "you're going to lie back and take it, everything we can give you, right?"

Yuri nods, crushed between two taller bodies, already feeling quite boneless and ready for penetration. JJ's fingers aren't quite enough—he's beginning to get desperate for Beka's cock—or even JJ's—to glide inside him and suffuse him with heat and fullness. A sense of completion and satisfaction.

"I think we need to take this show to the bed," JJ says, petting the back of Yuri's neck. "Poor Otabek is about to fall over."

"Beka?" Yuri inquires, and his friend responds by hefting Yuri up by the ass.

"I could stand here all day," Beka says in slurred tones. The movement pulls JJ's fingers almost entirely free of his body, and Yuri whines for the loss of penetration.

"He's wrong," JJ interjects. "He's very drunk, kitten, and we should allow him to lie down. And then I'll be nice and even let him inside you first. Better that way, anyway, because at least _I_ know what I'm doing, here."

Yuri wants to ask how, where JJ's done this before, but at this point he's in over his head, a bit. His pride won't let him back down from the challenge, but the logistics are beginning to make his head swim.

"Come on, kitten, up you get," JJ says, and untangles him from Beka, sweeping him up into his arms.

"I'm not your mail order bride, fuck, JJ!" Yuri says, flailing a bit. JJ's disturbingly gentle though, making sure not to bonk his head into anything as he carries him to the bed. Yuri can see over JJ's shoulder, Beka weaving and staggering after them. Wow, he is _wasted_.

Yuri hopes Beka will remember this later, when he sobers up.

JJ deposits Yuri on the bed, kneeling on his calves, and without giving Yuri a chance to bitch, JJ lifts his shirt by the hem and pulls it over Yuri's head.

"That's better," JJ says. "Look at that tight little body, kitten, those sexy ripped abs and your pretty little nipples, all pink and just begging for my teeth."

"Ugh," Yuri groans, "your dirty talk is _not_ sexy, JJ." He tries to tame his hair, now a mess of tangled strands in his face.

"Pretty sure it is," JJ says, before turning to face Beka. "On the bed, Altin. Well, after you get out of those clothes."

"Yeah," Yuri says, and hates that he's agreeing with JJ. "I wanna see you, Beka." He gestures to JJ. "And you too, fucker. I wanna know what I'm getting."

"At your pleasure, kitten," JJ says, and kicks out of his jeans. Yuri rolls his eyes, he's seen JJ's cock already. JJ divests himself of his shirt next, and Yuri gives him a cursory once over.

"Turn around," Yuri commands. "I wanna see if your ass is as fabulous as you claim it is."

Unfortunately, it is. It is a _sublime_ ass, and Yuri is ashamed of himself for wanting the chance to tap it. That would require him to sleep with JJ again, and, no. Well, maybe not _no_... he wonders if Beka would forgive him for it if he fucked JJ in the ass sometime in the morning. Beka could be sleeping off his hangover, right?

No, Yuri scolds himself, _you can't do that to Beka. Can't you see he's already jealous?_

"See something you like, kitten?" JJ says, the incorrigible idiot. He does a little twirl, arms raised above his head in a figure skating position, and Yuri blows raspberries at him. "Tsk, kitten, that's not very… _mature_."

"Maybe I don't fucking care," Yuri says, "and if you're not careful, the gag is going back in your mouth."

"I don't think so, not this time." JJ struts over to the bed, disgustingly (sexily) nude. Beka is flomped over on his back, and he'd managed to remove his shirt before falling onto the bed, prone, but Yuri gives a last evil eye to JJ and sets to work dragging Beka's boxers off.

Beka's cock looks both just like he remembered it, and different as hell because he's seeing it in _person_. Once he's got Beka naked, dick shining with lube, he looks helplessly to JJ for direction. Not that he wants to give JJ the satisfaction, but he's fifteen. He doesn't, contrary to even his own belief, know _everything_. In all of the porn he's watched, he doesn't think he's ever watched a guy take two cocks at once.

God. It should be troubling, but just thinking about it makes his body throb in all sorts of places. His dick drips precome down its length.

"Turn around," JJ instructs, "your back to Beka. You remember how you rode me? Now it's Beka's turn. Slide his cock on into that hungry little hole of yours—not too fast, kitten," JJ says as Yuri begins to lower himself onto Beka, "you just had me a little while ago. Be careful."

Yuri thinks this is a funny time for JJ to tell him to be careful, but he forces himself to obey, and even though he goes slowly, the muscle of his hole relaxes and it makes a sucking sound as his body swallows Beka's dick.

"Ohhh, that's hot," JJ breathes. "I wish I had my phone."

"You ever post pictures of this anywhere, Jean-Jacques Leroy, and you'll wish you were fucking dead. You understand me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, darling, but this image is going in my spank bank, you can bet on that."

"I'm too young to gamble," Yuri retorts, just to be contrary. JJ shrugs what are truly rather magnificent shoulders—and sexy as fuck biceps, Jesus. Why does he have to be so _hot_?

"Why does JJ get to be so fuck… fuckin' hot?" Beka says, unknowingly echoing Yuri's own thoughts. Then Beka moans, jacking his hips upwards, taking the reins out of Yuri's hands and winding up, yes, balls-deep in his ass. Yuri's breathing hitches and he spreads his legs, thighs seated on Beka's thighs and his knees bent, feet flat on the bed on either side of Beka's legs.

"You look good like that, kitten, hole all filled up and that _expression_ on your face, it's heavenly. Can't wait to get in there too, that sweet passage."

"Tell me something, JJ," Yuri says through huffs of breath as Beka fucks into him over and over, "have you done porn, too? You seem to be so… into trying everything."

"No," JJ responds, "but Izzy and I are… _adventurous_."

It's the first time JJ has mentioned his fiancée, and Yuri turns that over in his mind, then discards it as not important. If JJ wants to fuck Yuri and Beka behind her back, it's none of his business, right? So who cares.

"Slow down, Altin," JJ says. "No need to get to the finish line faster than everyone else." To Yuri, he says,, "Lie back, and leave room for me between those gorgeous thighs."

Yuri leans back, but he's afraid to crush Beka, so JJ, who has finally climbed on the bed with them at this point, places one hand under Yuri's body, and the other on his chest and carefully helps lower him backwards until he's lying flush against Beka's naked chest. It changes the angle of Beka's cock and Yuri lets out a breathy gasp.

JJ kneels on the bed, lifting Yuri's legs for access, and lines up his cock with Yuri's already full hole. The muscle is throbbing, not painfully, but a little echo of his heartbeat that signifies Yuri's intense arousal.

Pretty soon JJ's knees are planted on the bed on either side of Beka's thighs, and he's gripping Yuri's calf as he uses his hand to stretch Yuri even wider open, a gaping view, from the feel of things, and then he pushes his cock past the very slight resistance of Yuri's abused little hole.

Once inside, all three of them suck in a breath and moan. Yuri's never felt anything like this—well, obviously—but Beka seems surprised by it as well, his rhythm stuttering. JJ's chest is flushed red, and he hooks his now free hand up under Yuri's other calf, holding him in place as he fits every last inch into Yuri's slender, young body.

Yuri feels caught between them, and within himself, he can _feel_ every delicious sensation of Beka's and JJ's cocks grinding up against each other. JJ sets the pace for them, continuing to manipulate Yuri's body so that he and Beka slide back and forth against each other inside him, and his thrusts are short staccato bursts that never have his cock entirely leaving the snug clutch of Yuri's ass.

Beneath him, Beka is grunting with each movement, and his sweat is slick and hot against Yuri's back. Yuri can feel his own body becoming coated with perspiration, mingling with Beka's, and he can hear himself making aborted little noises each time Beka and JJ move. He'd be embarrassed by them, except he's too caught up in being trapped between them and filled to capacity with two hard, throbbing cocks.

The powerful maneuvers of JJ's hips are driving Yuri back and forth on the hard muscle of Beka's chest and stomach, a seesaw of motion. Each time he shifts upwards, he can feel Beka's stomach muscles flutter, feel Beka's hot breath—still smelling of sherry—wash over his ear. His hair is stuck to the sides of his face, and his cheeks are warm. When JJ, still clutching his calves, drags him back down, the sensations make his spine bow a little. Beka's almost too wasted to be coordinated, but he keeps running his hands up and down Yuri's chest, every so often flicking a finger against Yuri's tiny, pebbled nipples. Yuri hadn't known his nipples could be as tender as they are, or that it would send such frissons of pleasure traveling straight to his dick.

"Beka—" Yuri cries, almost babbling now from overstimulation. His hands scrabble for purchase, for something to ground him, finding JJ's biceps and closing his fingers around as much of the corded muscle as he can. "Ah, _fuck_ , JJ!"

Yuri is not too far gone to hate the fact that he's calling out JJ's name too, but he can't seem to help himself. It's sweltering in the room now, his skin burning up everywhere, and the two cocks inside him are a sultry, almost unbearable heat all their own. Yuri feels pinned between them, pistoned on their heavy dicks, lost in a sea of sensation.

His eyes slip shut and he arches, head thrown back on Beka's shoulder, his own cock needy and pressed to his belly. He can feel the wet droplets of precome greasing his stomach; he lets go of one of JJ's hands to reach for it, to get some desperately needed friction, but JJ drops one calf for a moment to grab Yuri's hand and pull it back towards him.

"No, kitten," he says, voice rough. "I wanna see you come without it."

"Ah—! I c-can't," Yuri stutters, anxious for what he needs, unable now to give it to himself. "I've never…"

"You will," JJ vows, returning his hand to Yuri's calf and hoisting him up again. He snaps his hips forward and fills Yuri, soaking him inside with precome, rubbing fiercely against Yuri's inner walls and Beka's cock. Yuri can feel the incredible stretch and burn and he knows the rim of his hole must be swollen and stretched from all the girth he's taking deep into his ass. "Trust me, kitten."

"I need— I need _more_ ," Yuri says between strangled breaths. "JJ, _please_." He writhes on their dual penetration, trying and failing to reach that pinnacle. But he keeps his hands bruisingly tight on any part of JJ he can reach, and JJ skims his own hands up and down on Yuri's calves, even as their cocks move in counterpoint within him.

"That's a good little kitten," JJ says, fingers tightening in the muscles of Yuri's calves; he's probably going to leave unexplainable marks. "Just a little more… you can take it… and then you can come."

"Gonna—" Beka suddenly cries, and JJ frowns. 

"It's too soon, Altin. Bring yourself back down a notch or two."

"But—" Yuri's head tilts back, arching his neck upward as he feels his skull dig into Beka's chest. "Gotta— Can't—"

"Okay," JJ says on an uneven grunt. "Go ahead, kitten. Let me see it—see you." His own words are coming out slightly garbled, proving that JJ isn't immune to all this pleasure—layer upon layer of it until they're drowning in it.

Yuri's not sure whether it's JJ giving him permission, the overstimulation from being fucked by two guys at once, or some combination of that and other factors, but he feels his eyes roll back a little; his hearing goes in and out of focus and his vision is dark at the edges as his dick jerks, shooting spunk up between them like a geyser, coming untouched just like JJ promised. The experience is actually humbling on top of everything else.

Beka wraps his arms around Yuri's belly and hangs on, spurting inside him; JJ is the last one to give over, letting out a heavy moan as he slams one final time into Yuri's body and spills into him as well.

JJ slings an arm around Yuri's back, pulling him in tight to his chest, and carefully lifts him up, Beka's arms leaving him—Yuri misses them at once—and their cocks drag free of his body.

The bed is a king size, so there's plenty of room for JJ to lay him out, boneless and exhausted, on the bed next to Beka, who turns his head to gaze at Yuri with an expression on his face that Yuri would prefer not to think about. Then JJ does something audacious, and unexpected; he parts Yuri's thighs again, fingering the outside of his hole.

Come is drizzling down the crack of Yuri's ass, and in retrospect he's _not_ surprised, actually, when JJ seals his mouth over his puffy, abused hole and sucks. JJ eats the come out of his ass, and licks the fluttering muscle, soothing the slight pain that remains.

"JJ, what the fuck," Yuri cries, but JJ just shakes his head, giving him one last long, decadent lick before raising his head.

"You taste so good, kitten," JJ comments lazily. His mouth is white at the corners, and he crawls up over Yuri. "Open your mouth, baby."

His initial reaction is to shove at JJ, push him away, but JJ quirks an eyebrow and Yuri subsides. He opens his mouth a little, and JJ covers it with his own—transferring some of the jizz into his mouth in a sticky, salty-bitter wad. Yuri wrinkles his nose, not sure he likes the flavor or the texture, but JJ deepens the action into a kiss, one that gives Yuri whole-body shivers.

JJ releases him and rubs his thumb along the plump curve of Yuri's lower lip. "Some of that is Altin, too, kitten."

Yuri twists in the bed to view Beka, who, satiated by orgasm, is now snoring next to him.

"Beka," he says with a softness he didn't know he possessed. He smooths back some of Beka's hair.

JJ lies down on his side on the other side of Yuri. "Go to sleep, kitten. It's okay."

"I want you gone before I wake up," Yuri says sleepily, but his body is truly wrung out, and he can't fight sleep for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Room 443, 10 a.m.**

Yuri is decidedly not alone when he wakes up, and he's sticky and sore—all over, in fact. His body feels abused from the multiple fuckings he received during the night—and all three of them need a shower. It reeks to high heaven of sex in his hotel room, and with a sudden guilty flush, he hopes that Yakov doesn't decide to come pick him up for breakfast or something.

Hell, he's not even packed! Check-out time is at noon and, with a look at his phone, it's already after ten.

"JJ," he says urgently, "wake up, you fucker. You have to go back to your room."

JJ squirms a little, but he doesn't open his eyes. Still sandwiched between them, he'd had to reach over Beka to get his phone. Now he shakes Beka's shoulder.

"Wake up, Beka. We all have to pack and get ready to fly home today!"

For the third time in as many hours, there's a knock on the door.

"Oh shit!" Yuri vaults over Beka, landing neatly on the floor, his ability to land jumps effortlessly aiding him. He can't find anything to wear except his soiled leopard print robe, and fuckfuckfuck, what if it's Yakov? Or Lilia, heaven forfend, that would be even worse! Lilia thinks of him as a beautiful, sexless creature because, to her, he's still a child.

He considers ignoring the door, but he won gold in the Final two days ago, and the media might be hoping for _just one more exclusive_ before he boards a plane back to Russia. His exhibition was last night, and remembering how disapproving Lilia had been over his Welcome to the Madness routine has him shaking in his bare feet. She's going to _kill_ him if she's on the other side of that door.

Yuri's not afraid of much, but Lilia terrifies him. He might be able to bullshit Yakov, something about strip poker and liquor, but Lilia is too perceptive for that. Even if she doesn't think of him as a sexual being, she's bound to figure out what was going on here.

Casting a despairing glance at the two sleeping guys in his hotel room bed, he ties the robe shut over his belly—come flaking off onto his fingers as he does so—and skids to a stop in front of the door just as the person on the other side knocks again.

He should have made them wait a little longer and taken the time to throw some kind of blanket over Beka and JJ, to hide the fact that they're buck-ass naked. Too late, he realizes as he opens the door.

"Yurio!" Viktor's cheerful face greets him. "Yakov says you're not answering your phone. He sent me to get you, because we're gathering for breakfast before we catch our flight."

"Um," Yuri says, trying to block as much of the view as he can. But Viktor is… not as oblivious as he wishes he were. "Come back in ten minutes," Yuri tries, "and I'll be properly dressed and—"

" _Yurio_ ," Viktor says in a scolding tone, "why does your hotel room smell like a Russian bordello?"

"That's silly," Yuri scoffs. "How do you know what a Russian bordello smells like, anyway?"

Viktor peers around Yuri. His eyes go wide, and then he picks Yuri up like he weighs next to nothing and deposits him to the side of the door so he can step inside.

"Yurio…" Viktor says, voice quiet and somewhat cold, "why are Altin and JJ lying in your bed, naked as jaybirds?"

"Well, we had a drinking party and they got a little randy and took their clothes off?"

"Yuri, don't lie to me. Did you have sex with either Otabek or JJ? And for the love of God, tell me you didn't!" Viktor's voice rises in pitch and volume, and JJ finally stirs, half-sitting up sleepily.

"What's the matter, kitten?" he asks, rubbing his blue eyes. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

Viktor's eyes flick from Yuri to JJ and back again. "Yuri Plisetsky, you are in _big trouble_ ," he says. Yuri is quite sure this is true, considering the expression on Viktor's face. He looks thunderous.

"Please don't tell Yakov… or Lilia," Yuri pleads. "It just sort of… happened… And it's JJ's fault, anyway." Yuri does not feel the least bit guilty about throwing JJ under the bus. The obnoxious fuck _did_ start things, anyway. "I'm only fifteen," Yuri says, giving Viktor wide puppy eyes. "I don't know any better."

Viktor would probably believe that defense of anyone besides Yuri, who he's known since Yuri was a child. He might ask some other fifteen-year-old if he consented, or if JJ overwhelmed him—JJ is six inches taller, with broader shoulders and a bigger frame in general. Yuri is tiny and willowy compared to him, but he can see that Viktor isn't fooled by the luminous green eyes.

"You're their responsibility, Yuri. Give me one good reason why I _shouldn't_ march you to them right now. And you didn't even turn on your phone! Yuri, you're still young. What if no one knew where you were?"

Yuri regards Viktor for several heartbeats. The best defense is a good offense, right?

"What about _you_?" Yuri says slyly. Viktor appears surprised.

"What _about_ me?" he asks, a bit warily. It's like he _knows_ what Yuri is thinking—and he might have an inkling, because he's known Yuri a long time, and Viktor knows how devious he can be.

"How would you feel if Katsudon knew about your fling with Chris?" Yuri says, driving the nail in the coffin. Viktor will _never_ say anything to Yakov or Lilia now.

"I do not know what you're talking about," Viktor says primly. "And don't bring Yuuri into this."

"I'm just saying," Yuri says, and shrugs. He tries not to think about the fact that there's probably come in his _hair_ , for God's sake.

"You stink like sex," Viktor says without further preamble. Like changing the subject is the most judicious thing to do. "Did JJ force you?" He probably figures he _has_ to ask, just to make sure.

About this, Yuri can't, and won't, lie. JJ is an obnoxious dick, but he didn't rape Yuri, and Yuri isn't going to accuse him of it. "No, Vitya," he says solemnly. "I wasn't coerced. JJ is persuasive, but I didn't say no, and I didn't want to." He supposes that at the very beginning, he'd argued with JJ, but he also remembers the way that, when he pushed JJ back, the stupid cocky idiot had backed off. He also recollects how he had taken over things, gagged JJ and rode him until both of their brains leaked out their ears… yeah, he wasn't unwilling. He should have been… but he wasn't.

"And Otabek?" Viktor holds his gaze meaningfully. "Why is _Otabek_ naked and in your bed?"

"Well, he showed up late last night and he was very drunk…" Yuri says, but his explanation falters. What to say?

But oh, Viktor can solve a puzzle especially when all the pieces are already aligned.

"Holy Mother," he exclaims, "Yuri Plisetsky, did you have a fucking threeway with your rival figure skaters?"

Ding ding ding, Yuri thinks, and shrugs petulantly. Let Viktor believe him to be an unrepentant _child_. Viktor won't punish him if he thinks that—

But before he can blink again, Viktor's tugged the tie loose on his robe, and slid it down his shoulders, exposing Yuri. He wonders how many different bruises he's sporting—and where.

"My God," Viktor whispers. "Did you even do the smart thing and use a condom?" But Yuri can tell from the look in his blue-green eyes that Viktor already knows the answer. "Get dressed, Yuri. Actually, all three of you. When you get back to St. Petersburg, Yuri, Yakov is going to have to take you to get tested for STDs."

"You're going to tell Yakov? And Lilia?" Yuri puts on his most innocent face, tries his hardest to look innocuous and cute. Inside, though, his body is trying to decide between fight or flight. "What about the piggy?" Yuri adds, his mind deciding on _fight_. He knows Viktor will make the connection, that Yuri will spill his secrets to Katsudon if Viktor tattles on Yuri.

"It would break their hearts," Viktor says, shoulders slumping. "Which is absolutely the _only_ reason I'm not turning you over to them right now. Dammit. I'm going to have to change our flight plans. Now that you've done this, Yuuri and I will have to make a detour on our way back to Hasetsu. I don't know how he'll ever forgive me. Get dressed. No. Take a shower first, and clean yourself up. _> Then_ get dressed."

Viktor must be pretty upset if he's stating the obvious; like Yuri's going to go down to breakfast naked.

"Vitya—"

"And I'm staying here until you do. Yurio, you were supposed to be old enough to be trusted."

"Vitya," Yuri says, "didn't you misbehave when you were fifteen? Don't be such a wet blanket. I bet you and Chris messed around for the first time _long_ before he was legal."

Viktor glares at him.

JJ has finally emerged from the bed. Yuri had wondered why he was so quiet during the exchange between him and Viktor, then he realizes they've been speaking in Russian. JJ puts a hand on Yuri's shoulder. Yuri stiffens and manages not to shrug him off. Despite the language barrier, JJ must be able to tell that Yuri's in trouble.

"Go easy on him, Viktor," JJ says. "You know I can be a force of nature. Yuri was just giving into natural urges."

"Jean-Jacques Leroy, you are an adult. You could have at least used protection!"

JJ doesn't look particularly chastened, either. Yuri escapes into the bathroom. It takes him a good twenty minutes to get as much of the come off as he can, though he spends several minutes scooping it out of his ass.

By the time he gets out, Beka is also awake, and Viktor is obviously plying him with water to help with what must be a monster hangover. Both Beka and JJ are now dressed, and it would almost seem like nothing happened, except that Viktor is gesturing wildly, apparently trying not to yell.

"—both of you!" he's saying, "he's a _child_ , you should be ashamed of yourselves."

"It's legal in Canada for me to have sex with a fifteen-year-old," JJ is saying reasonably. "And if you'd seen him last night, you wouldn't consider him a child."

"I don't think that's helping, asshole," Yuri interjects. "Look, you made Viktor turn white."

"I'm not going to think about Yurio that way," Viktor says, "he's like a brother to me, and that's why _I_ , at least, am looking out for his best interests. Otabek, you two are friends, right? Why would you—"

Yuri pauses for a moment of silence for his childhood crush, then attempts to defend the only person who's ever defended _him_.

"It was my idea," he says baldly. "I asked for the exhibition skate first, and later things… escalated. The only reason Beka is here is because he, uh, caught me and JJ on Skype."

Viktor looks scandalized. Of all the things he just learned about Yuri, _this_ is what flummoxes him?

"Yura," Viktor says, apparently choosing to ignore that information in favor of addressing him directly.. "Do you need to see a doctor? Do you have any… injuries?" It's obvious that Viktor is trying to be as delicate as possible in his inquiries. Yuri sighs and shakes his head.

"No, I'm perfectly fine," he says, refusing to confess that his ass is sore as fuck. His muscles all ache, too, from being used so mercilessly. But he won't tell Viktor that. He won't tell JJ, either, though he might consider confiding in Beka.

If Beka even remembers what happened last night. Judging by how quiet he is, he's either embarrassed or feels guilty or both.

Only JJ seems completely unaffected. "Do you need anything else, kitten?" he asks, as Viktor is trying to shoo him and Beka out the door.

"No, thank you," Viktor says, practically shoving JJ in his haste to get him to leave. "I've got this. _You've_ done enough."

"Call me," JJ says, wiggling his fingers by his ear. "See you at Worlds, kitten. I'll be taking gold this time."

"Just get the fuck out, JJ," Yuri says. Viktor throws him a quelling glare, but Yuri's not going to be nice just because JJ gave him an orgasm. Or two. "Beka…" he says, but his friend shakes his head minutely, then swallows hard and his face turns pale and waxy. "I'm sorry," Yuri says feebly. He really does feel guilty about the way things are with Beka—he wouldn't be so hungover if Yuri had remembered that the computer was still on.

"It's okay, Yura," he says, standing awkwardly in his underwear. "I'm just going to…"

"You could borrow my robe," Yuri says, the idea seeming like a brilliant one until he remembers the come stains.

"It's all right, Yura, seriously. It's a hotel." He stops to give Yuri a hug, then he, too, leaves, saying, "I'll see you at breakfast, okay?"

Once they're gone, Viktor whips him into a frenzy of packing. Under Viktor's watchful eye, Yuri collects his things, and when they meet Yakov and Lilia in the hotel lobby as they're checking out, Viktor covers for Yuri.

"Oh, he just overslept," Viktor says breezily, an arm slung around Yuri's shoulders. "He accidentally had his phone on airplane mode, haha, isn't that so funny?"

Yakov nods, but Lilia gives Yuri a dark look. "You must be more responsible, Yuri," she says, and he lowers his head, letting his hair hang in his face. But she doesn't know he's smiling, because Viktor fell in line just like a puppy called to heel, and a few hours removed from last night, he's feeling pretty proud of himself, actually. He can feel a blush beginning on his cheeks as he thinks about taking two cocks at once—like a pornstar.

No matter what he told JJ about not being a Russian hooker, the idea amuses him.

"Very well, Yura, let's go into breakfast. Vitya." Lilia reaches for Yuri's arm, but he declines.

"I'm good with Viktor, thanks," he says, trying not to look shifty. Viktor seems surprised by this, but Yuri doesn't want to be anywhere near Lilia right now. She can smell a lie, sometimes, and Yuri isn't feeling very deceptive today.

They get their breakfasts and Viktor hails Yuuri, casting off Yuri like so much refuse as he runs off after his boyfriend. Yuri tries not to feel offended that Viktor got sick of him so quickly.

Beka, though, is sitting by himself, with a piece of toast and a coffee mug. The toast is missing approximately three bites, and Beka is pasty and definitely sad-looking. Yuri takes his bagel, jam, and coffee over to where Beka's sitting and plops down.

"Still hungover?" he asks softly.

"Eh," Beka replies, poking at his coffee. Just as Yuri's about to bite into his bagel, he catches a familiar red jacket out of the corner of his eye. JJ is hanging out near the buffet table, Isabella looking fresh as a daisy on his arm. Yuri glowers. Stupid JJ. Sure, fuck Yuri all night and then act like it never happened, like he's all _heterosexual_ or something. Yuri wonders whether Isabella has any idea what her boyfriend gets up to when she's not around.

He almost wants to tell her, just to be a dick, but… he remembers how amazing JJ's cock felt inside of him and decides discretion is the better part of valor. It's possible that if he blabbed to Izzy that JJ might just be mad enough to refuse to nail him again. Or to let Yuri nail _him_ , which he definitely wants to do.

Just before Yuri turns away, JJ glances in his direction. Yuri tries to hide in his hair, but he's not entirely successful—JJ _winks_ at him, the fucker. Yuri makes a strangled little noise and Beka rouses himself from his toast, which he's been staring at blearily for awhile now.

"You okay, Yura?" he asks, but it should be Yuri consoling him, not the other way around. Typical Beka.

"I'm great," Yuri says, producing a smile. It doesn't seem to reassure Beka, though; more like it dies on the sacrificial altar of Yuri's good intentions.

"I'm so sorry," Beka says miserably. "I was unfair to you. I hope you don't… decide you don't wanna be friends anymore."

"What? Why?" Yuri tries to tune out JJ, who he can practically _feel_ thinking about him and the night they had last night. "You didn't do anything, Beka. I messed up." Yuri remembers leaving the computer on and winces again.

"I did plenty, Yura—"

"But I _liked_ it," Yuri points out, reaching across the table for Beka's hand. At the last second he realizes what he's doing, that they're in public, and not only that, but they're _rivals_. Someone might—

"Having a little lovers' breakfast, kitten?" JJ asks, stepping into his line of sight and regarding him and Beka with that doofus grin of his. Jesus. Yuri feels something throb in his belly. It's probably indigestion. Except he hasn't eaten anything yet. Crap. Maybe he's suffering some ill-effects from last night.

Viktor's gonna be mad. In fact, he'll probably be mad if he sees Yuri consorting with JJ. Yuri's not positive, but he thinks that Viktor forgives Beka because he knows they're friends, but he definitely doesn't trust JJ.

Not that _anyone_ should trust JJ. Yuri can't figure out why his tummy feels so weird. Maybe because he's thinking about actually _trusting_ JJ? Although he doesn't, of course not; but apparently just the idea of it is sickening. Yuri sets his bagel back down.

"You two seem awfully cozy, it's cute," JJ continues. "Did you sleep well last night, Yuri-chan?"

Yuri _knows_ that this time he blushes to the roots of his hair. Even his chest feels hot, like he's being scalded by the embarrassment. JJ is such an _asshole_. Only he would do something like blatantly advertise what they'd done last night.

"I slept _awesome_ , no thanks to you," Yuri says archly. "You made so much noise last night."

Isabella walks up just as Yuri's finishing saying that, and clutches proprietarily at JJ's arm.

"What's going on, baby?" she asks. "What noise? I thought you said you slept soundly all night."

"Pay Yuri-chan no mind, babe," JJ says. He doesn't even have the good grace to look embarrassed. He probably isn't, the smug idiot. "He must have had nightmares considering the way he was groaning and crying out."

"I will gut you with this knife," Yuri says, brandishing the plastic utensil.

"Oh, look at the adorable little kitten," JJ says, rubbing Isabella's arm. But the look he gives Yuri suggests that he's _flirting_. That idiot! With his girlfriend right there? "You do know that it's not even serrated, right, Yuri-chan?"

"JJ," Yuri says sweetly, "you shouldn't hide things from your girlfriend."

"Baby? What's the matter?" Isabella gazes at JJ with troubled eyes, concern written all over her face.

Beka summons some energy from somewhere and pokes Yuri with his coffee stirrer.

"Don't be a dick, Yura," Beka says with gravel in his voice. Yuri flushes guiltily and wonders if Beka's been puking this morning.

He still can't stop himself from saying, though,

"I thought he was calling out someone's name. Didn't sound like 'Izzy' or 'Isabella' though."

"JJ?" Isabella's eyes are confused now; Yuri wonders when she'll figure it out.

"Oh," JJ says, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head, "look at the time, gorgeous. Our flight leaves in an hour." He sends one more very hot, suggestive look at Yuri and then steers Isabella away.

"Yura," Beka says, slapping the back of his hand with his coffee stirrer. "That was wrong."

"He had it coming," Yuri says sulkily. He wipes a bit of… orange juice?... off his hand.

"He had _you_ coming a few hours ago," Beka says. "And you know what, Yura? He could just as easily out _you_ to the media… or Yakov."

"He can't," Yuri says confidently. "He'd have to admit to his own part in it."

"Do you know that for certain?" Beka asks. "I wouldn't put it past JJ to have video of you or something."

"He won't do anything," Yuri says. "He _likes_ me too much."

"Watch out, Yura. Nasty actions have nasty consequences."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Yuri's about to take a bite of his bagel again when there's warm breath against his ear.

"Did you miss me, kitten? I put my number in your phone. Make sure you call me, baby."

Damn that JJ! He snuck up on Yuri. Yuri tilts his head back to acknowledge the jerk, when he realizes Yakov is standing over him as well.

"Yurochka," he says in his growly voice. "Are you almost finished?"

"Oh Yuri-chan," JJ says suddenly. "Where did you get that mark in your neck?"

_Dammit. Beka was right._ Yuri claps a hand over his neck, but not before Yakov gives him a calculating look. Shit. What if he has a hickey? He probably can't blame a bruise on his neck as a skating injury. Maybe he can play it off as one of Yuri Angels got too close to him?

"Must be the lighting in here, it's really bad," Beka inputs swiftly. Despite his anger at Yuri, he'd never let him get into any real trouble.

"Hurry up, Yuri," Yakov says. He gives him one last considering stare, towards his neck—Yuri thinks he might not have covered the right spot. JJ blows out a breath across his ear.

"A kiss for the road, kitten. See you at Worlds. Or maybe sooner, who knows?"

"Isabella's not an idiot," Yuri snaps. "She's going to figure out what an asshole you are someday. It's so obvious, JJ. No one _actually_ likes you. Did you ever ask yourself if Izzy's only dating you because you're famous?"

As soon as he finishes the sentence, Yuri knows he's taken things too far. He may not _like_ JJ… but he probably shouldn't have told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was unlovable. That weird feeling in his tummy is back.

"I uh, need the restroom," Yuri says, and beats a hasty exit. He's pretty sure Beka's glaring daggers at his back, though.

In the bathroom, Yuri finds a stall and stands inside it with the door closed for a minute. He's not _sure_ , but he doesn't think the weird feeling is a stomachache. But then what could it be? He bites his lip, pulls out his phone. And almost dies.

His lock screen has been changed to _JJ's erect dick_.Yuri knows this because, at the angle the photo was taken, there's a tiny tattoo on it— _King JJ_. The fucker even tattooed his initials on his _cock_?

When Yuri gets over that, he opens his phone to change the screen. And discovers his wallpaper is himself, lying on the bed next to a very naked Beka, entirely too naked himself and covered with bruises and bitemarks.

Ohhhh. Yuri is going to _kill_ JJ the next time he sees him.

&~&

**St. Petersburg, Russia, January 2015 | Yuri's bedroom**  


"Hey, Beka," Yuri says, lying back on his bed, shifting his phone so he can see Beka's face better. He's already naked, planning dirty, evil things for Beka's afternoon.

Beka's already shirtless, and he must have just gotten back from a run or something, because his chest is shining with perspiration. He fiddles with his phone, and for a second Yuri catches a glimpse of Beka's gorgeous figure-skating-toned thighs under a pair of black boxer briefs. Yuri's mouth waters a little bit at that.

"Hey, Yura, so how did it go?"

"Viktor's like somebody's old grandma," Yuri complains. He holds a box into view of the camera on his phone. "Condoms, for fuck's sake. What am I ever gonna use these for?"

"I dunno, Yura, maybe the next time you have sex?" Beka sighs and the phone slips again, this time giving Yuri a closeup of his nipple. Yuri wishes he was there, so he could bite it.

"Bah," Yuri says. "Anyway. All the tests are negative. I'm pure as the driven snow!"

"I think that only applies if you're a virgin, Yura." Beka grins, and this time the phone ends up close to his abs—tantalizingly near his dick.

Fuck, is he doing it on _purpose_?

"He bought me this, too. It was so funny, Beka, he wouldn't let me in the store with him, like I'm some kinda little kid, but he totally came out with this."

Yuri's showing Beka a beautiful glass dildo.

"Wow," Beka says, a bit admiringly. "I'd ask if that was a little big for you, but I remember Barcelona. Well, sort of."

Reminder of Beka's drunken binge puts a bit of a damper on Yuri's already rather excellent arousal.

"Did I ever properly apologize for fucking JJ while you watched?" Yuri asks, toying with the dildo. He doesn't know what Viktor spent on it, but Katsudon's face had been _oh-so-red_ and he'd glared at Viktor the whole time they walked back to Yakov's car, which Viktor had borrowed for the occasion.

"It's okay," Beka says. "I forgave you for it. Besides, I should have been there for you. Yura, can you forgive _me_ for going along with JJ?" He pauses. "You're… not… a very big guy, and that was a lot of cock to stuff you with."

"Pah! I liked it! It was awesome. I don't even know if this is going to be enough," Yuri says, turning the dildo so it catches the light.

"Go easy on yourself, Yura. You're still pretty new to this!"

"Hey, Beka… want to see me shove this up my ass?" Yuri brandishes the dildo like a weapon.

"You need to work on your sexy talk," Beka replies, shaking his head. "But you know I do, let's be real. I can't get the thought of you taking two cocks at once out of my head."

"And one of them was yours," Yuri says. "You know JJ was just a… means to an end, right?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe you shouldn't be so hard on him," Beka says.

"Fucker can deal with his own shit," Yuri says. "He knows I hate him. But, God, Beka, he texts me _all the time_. I can't get him to leave me alone!" Yuri throws an arm dramatically over his eyes.

"Maybe he really likes you, did you ever consider that?" Beka asks.

"Gross." Yuri shudders. "I don't even want…" but that funny feeling is back. He thinks about asking Beka about it, but he's not sure he wants to tell anyone just yet. What if it's cancer or something?

His phone beeps. "Gah, it's him _again_ ," Yuri says. "Dammit, another dick pic."

He deletes it, but not before he gives it a quick peek. Is that a new tattoo? Jesus… is that a kitten tattooed just above his dick? No, wait, it's a tiger… cub. Maybe?

"If it's really bothering you, Yura, maybe you should tell Yakov." Beka licks his lips, and Yuri can't tell if that's supposed to be seduction, or maybe Beka's just thirsty?

"It's… not so bad. Kinda flattering, I guess. Even if he has no chance."

Beka stares straight into the camera, and catches his lower lip in his teeth. Then the image wobbles, and Yuri gets a teasing peek at Beka's finger—walking down his chest slowly, pausing to flick at a nipple. Yuri's mouth goes dry. He can't get enough of Beka's body, of his soft-looking pink nipples or his iron-hard thighs. There's definitely something to be said for fucking a figure skater. It's also the reason why JJ has such an otherworldly ass—and why is he thinking about JJ right now?

"Show me more, Beka," Yuri says breathlessly. "I wanna see your dick—I wanna see it get all hard for me." He's gonna prove he's plenty good at sexy talk.

Yuri can _hear_ Beka swallow, then the phone focuses where Yuri wants it most: on Beka's groin, his underwear. Beka's not hard yet; or at least, he's _interested_ , but obviously needs more.

"Touch yourself, Beka," Yuri whispers, not caring whether he sounds like a sex line operator or not. "Stroke that beautiful dick until you're hard for me, leaking and wet, Beka."

Beka moans audibly, and then his hand is lying over his dick, just resting there.

"More, Yura," he rasps. "Keep it up."

"Oh, I'm gonna keep it up all right," Yuri promises. "You know I can, don't you?"

"Yura," Beka pleads, and he cups his palm over himself, and for a breath Yuri can't see any of what he most wants to see. Then Beka's cock begins to grow, swelling up against his hand, and Beka's hand doesn't cover it fully anymore.

"Go on," Yuri encourages. "Rub your fingers against yourself. Make yourself big and hard for me, Beka; I wanna see it.. All of it. I wanna think about you taking that gorgeous cock and shoving it in my ass."

Beka's breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he strokes faster, reaching into his underwear to adjust himself. His beautiful dick is a sexy, mouth-watering line pressing against his boxer briefs. But Yuri wants to _see_.

"Take it out, Beka. Lemme see you. Are you wet?"

"Gods, I'm dripping, Yura," Beka says hoarsely. And he pushes his underwear down, exposing his cock, which is flushed pink and curved towards his belly. True to his word, Yuri can see the fluid collecting at the tip and sliding over.

"I wanna lick you," Yuri says in a low voice that he hopes comes across as sexy and not weird, "lick up and down that delicious cock like a lollipop, sucking the precome off of you."

"Jesus," Beka gasps, "where did you learn how to do this?"

Yuri decides to keep to himself the fact that listening to JJ's sex talk has given him not only some pointers, but some confidence. Beka doesn't seem to be waiting for an answer though.

"I've gotta—" Yuri says, and reaching down, traps his own cock in a tight fist. "I need you, Beka. I need you inside me."

"I— wanna be— inside you, Yura," Beka stutters, his hips stuttering too. "Can you— I wanna see you cram that giant dildo in your ass. You can pretend it's me."

"Oh God, yes," Yuri cries, and fumbles around on the bed until he finds the lube; lifting the dildo off his chest, he holds it into view. Then, sure that Beka's watching with graceless anticipation, he slathers it with lube.

"Are you ready, Beka? Ready to fuck me?" Yuri lifts one leg and bends it towards his ribcage, and tries to hold the phone while carefully penetrating himself with two fingers. "I've got my fingers inside me, Beka. I'm getting myself ready for you. It feels so soft inside, Beka, and so hot. Can you feel it?"

"Oh God," is all Beka seems to be able to say. "Oh, God." He's pumping his dick rapidly with his hand, spreading the precome over himself, his breathing erratic and harsh into the phone even though the microphone is close enough to his dick that Yuri can hear the sounds it makes as Beka works himself over.

"I'm ready for you," Yuri pants, and yanks out his fingers—a little too fast, but that's all right because he's desperate.

Yuri wishes he could _smell_ Beka, and not just the remembered scent of sherry on his breath, or the sourness of his sweat when he slept because he was so drunk. No, Yuri wants to bury his nose in Beka's crotch and just _breathe_. 

"I can feel you going inside me," Yuri whispers, as the dildo begins to breach him. It's large, bigger than JJ probably, but that's not a problem for Yuri. He gets it past the initial difficulty and then it slides home like magic, giving him that glorious full feeling. "Ah-ah—!" Yuri cries, feeling his body coming apart from the feeling of being filled. "I feel you, Beka. It's all the way—ah—in."

"Oh God, _Yura_ ," Beka grits out, and the phone moves wildly as his hands shake; Beka's dick pumps white streaks over his still sweaty belly. "I'm coming, Yura. Gah!"

"Oh fuck," Yuri says, "me too, fuck, _Beka_!" And Yuri's ass muscles clamp around the dildo as his back and bottom arch off the bed; by the time his vision clears again, he thinks there might even be jizz on the ceiling. Oops.

"Wow," Beka says, when he can speak again. "That was fucking hot."

Yuri is still recovering, lying gasping on the bed, hands shaking as he unseats the dildo from inside him. Watching Beka's face, he raises it to his and licks it. It tastes like strawberry from the lube.

"I'm imagining this is your cock, Beka. You'd take it out after you fucked me, and I'd lick your come off of it. Just the taste of you would make me hard again. Can you—"

"Yura," Beka says with a breathless laugh, "I'm going to die. You're going to kill me. You are the filthiest fifteen-year-old I've ever met."

"Don't you love it?" Yuri gazes a little anxiously into the phone, sexy talk momentarily forgotten. He thinks maybe he's really saying, _don't you love_ me?

But that's stupid. They're friends. With any luck, Beka will never tire of him, or realize that Yuri is really just what he says he is: an Ice Tiger, a creature that is petty and mean and unlovable. No one has ever loved him before, except maybe his grandpa. So why is he suddenly worried about it now?

"Of course I do," Beka says, "but I need some time to rest. Four Continents is coming up in a few weeks, and I can't do nothing but jack off, Yura. I also need to practice."

"I wish I would see you there," Yuri says. "I want you to fuck me so bad, Beka."

"You know how badly I _want_ to fuck you, right, Yura?" Beka is wiping come off his belly with a corner of his blanket.

"Beka, I—"

"Yuri!" From outside the door, Lilia's strident voice can be heard.

"Oh crap, I gotta go," Yuri says, hastily burying the dildo in the blankets. He quickly locks his phone—now password protected—and tries to look like he' been sleeping. He's still naked, but Lilia probably won't say anything about that.

Poor Beka didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, which Yuri feels guilty about. His phone beeps a new message—Beka saying something, probably.

"Yuri Plisetsky, you have been lazing about long enough. I want you to come out here now! Your routines have been so sloppy. Unacceptable! We are going to practice until you get it right."

Yuri flinches at her tone. Oh, she is pissed—and she's definitely figured out something is up.

"I was sleepin'," he mumbles, trying to sound like he's just been woken up by her ringing tones. "Be out in a min."

"Make sure you're ready to work _hard_ , young man," Lilia says. "Your movements haven't been _flowing_ , like a ballerina's should be. It's a mystery to me why your body seems to move so stiffly lately." Her inflection implies it's not as much of a mystery as Yuri would like it to be.

Sure enough, when he emerges after throwing his practice clothes on, Lilia is standing outside the door, her arms crossed.

"Yuri, we need to have… a discussion."

"A… discussion?" This does not sound good, and Lilia's next words confirm that is going to _very_ awkward.

"Yes. Yuri, I perhaps have neglected… certain things in my desire to coach you. You're almost sixteen now, and—"

"Oh no," Yuri says, feeling his face flame. She's not going to… is she?

"I've thought about it, and it seems that you're becoming interested in… uh, sexual congress. So I thought it would be best to give you some books and pamphlets. It's perfectly natural, at your age, to want sex, but you're at the peak of your abilities! You must not get distracted. So I really must insist that you refrain from… masturbating. As much as possible."

"Why couldn't Yakov tell me this?" Yuri begs plaintively. This is the most embarrassing thing he's ever been through, including losing to JJ twice.

"Yakov is a useless lout when it comes to certain things," Lilia says with a sniff. "He's a wonderful coach, and his attention to detail for skating is unsurpassed. But he doesn't understand teenage boys."

_And you do?_ Yuri thinks, watching her. Yakov has been training boys for years!

"But Yakov coached Vitya? And Georgi?" Yuri tries, attempting to turn the conversation.

"Pah! Look at that Viktor. The long hair… Yakov did not know what he was doing there, either. It should have been a clue, and had he asked _me_..."

"What should have been a clue?"

"Surely you've noticed? In any event, now that we've had this talk, I trust you'll comply with my wishes. You have to be in top form for the upcoming European Nationals."

"Yeah, okay," Yuri hedges. Like he's going to give up his wanking sessions with Beka! It's about the only thing he enjoys _besides_ figure skating. Yuri definitely loves to skate, but JJ opened up a whole new world for him when he entered his hotel room that night after the Grand Prix Final. But now Lilia has _suspicions_ , which means he's going to have to be extra careful.

"Now. Time to train your butt off. Come along, Yuri."

He tries very hard not to snicker. Coming was what he was _just doing_.

&~&

**Yuri's Home Rink, St. Petersburg, Russia | March 1**

Yuri's hiding in the bathrooms at the rink, trying to duck out of practice long enough to Skype with Beka secretly.

"Congratulations on taking silver at the European Nationals, Yura," Beka says when the call connects.

"Bah," Yuri says, angrily scuffung his toe. "It _should_ have been gold. _You_ took gold at the Four Continents," he says, before realizing how accusing that sounds. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Beka."

"You won't find me easy to beat in the Grand Prix circuit this fall, Yura."

"Hey, Beka, it's my birthday." He's very proud of his calm, adult tone. He's finally sixteen—now he can fuck whomever he wants. He's also changing the subject because he doesn't want to squash Beka's hopes like a bug.

"Hey, Yura, I know," Beka replies with a little laugh. Yuri scowls because Beka is so obviously copying him. But then Beka sends Yuri a message with a little "<3" at the bottom. Yuri can't quite suppress the stupid smile wanting to spread across his face.

"What did you get me?" he asks, lifting one eyebrow. Beka's really his only friend; surely he got him a present?

"What, my dick's not good enough for you anymore?" Beka makes the finger gun from Welcome to the Madness again and points it at Yuri.

"You're not here, though, are you?" Yuri dramatically closes his eyes. "Bang, I'm dead," he says. "You'll go to jail for an entirely different offense."

"Check your email, Yura," Beka says. There is restrained excitement in his tone. Yuri opens his eyes. Is Beka actually… fidgeting?

"What's the matter?" Yuri asks, trying to read Beka's stoic expression. Even after all this time, he's still not very good at it.

"I'm just hoping you like it," Beka replies. "I mean, of course I'll… uh, understand if you don't want to, but—"

But Yuri's email has already pinged, and he's staring at the message from Beka.

"You sent me plane tickets? To Almaty?" Yuri can't quite believe his eyes. "I…"

"Are you happy, Yura?" Beka asks anxiously. "I thought you might want… but you know, if you don't, that's okay too—"

"Why did you send me plane tickets?" Yuri asks, suddenly unsure of himself. "All that stuff we talked about… Beka, did you buy them because of those things I said? I mean, I just want to be sure you wanted… to, uh." But this little speech stalls out. Surely if Beka sent them, it's because he really does want Yuri to visit?

Or maybe he just wants legal sex with Yuri. He hasn't had a lot of experience in this area.

"Because I like you?" Beka sounds honestly surprised. "Why else would I— Yura?"

"I'm _not_ crying," Yuri says, glaring at Beka. "No one ever wanted me around before," he finishes, wondering if his nose is running. And if so, gross. Beka will probably change his mind about having him visit. Or about fucking him, too, probably.

"I did," Beka says. "Don't you remember what I told you in Barcelona?"

"Um." Yuri doesn't, not really. "That night is pretty much a blur?"

"Not that night. Before that. I said, ‘I watched you’," Beka says. "You had the eyes of a soldier, remember? Even soldiers get leave, Yuri."

"But… you actually want _me_ to come visit? The Russian punk? The kid no one likes?" Yuri takes a deep breath. "What if I… I'm not good with people, Beka. What if I upset your friends?"

"Let me worry about them, Yura; do you _want_ to come?"

"Like you have to ask," Yuri says, rolling his shoulders back. "If I weren't at the _rink_ right now—"

"That is not what I meant," Beka says, and Yuri's shoulders slump. He'd hoped he could diffuse some of the tension, but he can tell it's not working.

"I knew what you meant, I was just teasing," Yuri says.

_Lol, I know, Yura._ This last bit is typed in a text message, with a picture attached. Beka's apparently at the rink too, because he's wearing stretchy warm up pants, and his dick is gorgeously outlined in them—it looks achingly hard.

From zero to sixty in about twelve seconds, as Yuri's own cock _really_ likes what he just saw.

Yuri's just thinking about whether he can get away with jerking off in the bathroom, when he receives another message.

"Hang on, Beka," he says, and opens it. JJ has sent him a picture too, his cock wearing a little sparkly hat. _happy birthday, kitten!_ reads the caption. _It's a HARD hat, get it?_

Pause.

_I bet you're just CAPtivated by it, aren't you? ;)_

He's really going to kill him. _That's weak, even for you_ , he texts back, then returns to Beka.

"Sorry, just JJ being a weirdo."

"Uh, listen. I gotta go," Beka says, eyes suddenly looking anywhere but at Yuri. "I think my coach is calling me. Have a good birthday, Yura. And let me know if you're going to visit, all right?"

"Yeah," Yuri says. "Bye, Beka."

But even though JJ's a giant idiot, Yuri is actually kind of… happy?... that JJ remembered his birthday. Too bad he doesn't remember when JJ's is.

Maybe he should look it up? He bites his lip, concentrating, as he rubs one out quickly—and why does JJ's stupid dick come to mind?—before returning to practice.

He wonders if Lilia can tell?

&~&

**In The Air, Flying to Almaty | March 15**

Yuri had downloaded all his email messages before takeoff, so he's reading them offline when he comes to a whole list of emails from JJ, all with attachments.

The first one he opens reads, _heard you were flying to visit Otabek. Just thought I'd share some of the fun times we had at the Four Continents!_

The first photo makes sense: JJ with his arm thrown over Beka's shoulder, wearing sunglasses on his head—like a douche—and Beka's face is almost a frown. Yuri smiles.

He stops smiling when he opens the next email. _Your boyfriend is a lush_ , writes JJ, and there's two photos: one of Beka with an alcoholic drink of some kind, and then…

"What the fuck?" Yuri practically screeches, causing other passengers to turn and give him a bunch of dirty looks.

But Yuri is beyond caring about that. JJ is holding the phone, and obviously making out with _Beka_.

"I'm going to kill them both," Yuri swears heatedly under his breath. " _Beka_ , you don't even _like_ JJ!"

_I knew there was a reason I hated his guts,_ Yuri thinks to himself. _And he's not my boyfriend._ Yuri can't imagine why Beka would want to be his boyfriend, even if he _does_ like fucking Yuri. But that's all it is—right?

The following email reads, _wanted to do something special for your birthday. pls don't be mad._ The photo is JJ displaying a dildo—smaller than Yuri's—for the phone, with Beka faintly disapproving, almost out of the frame. _got Otabek to help me._

Now, Yuri so confused. What is JJ—? So he quickly clicks to the next email. _I wanted to take it for you, baby. Otabek wouldn't volunteer his cock, so this will have to do._

There are three pictures attached, and each one is a variation on a theme. The first shows JJ lying on his back, his knees up in the air, and Beka must be the one holding the phone, now. He can just see the shadowed crease of JJ's ass. Despite himself, Yuri holds his phone closer, as if he can see better. When that doesn't help, he enlarges the next photo. Now the vantage point is directly between JJ's tempting thighs. JJ's hand is underneath him, spreading his ass cheek open so that Yuri can see—very clearly—JJ's hole, which is tightly furled closed and shining with what is probably lube. Yuri's body tightens; his mouth is parched. He takes a drink of the complimentary water in front of him and, perhaps too eagerly, studies the next pic.

There's a heart filter over this photo, and JJ's finger is half-inserted into his hole. Or, wait. Is that _Beka's_ finger? All at once, in a blinding flash, Yuri remembers that JJ and Beka trained together in Montreal for a time. Maybe Beka doesn't dislike JJ as much as Yuri thought.

Yuri stares at the photo for probably way too long; his own fingers itch to _touch_ , to feel JJ from the inside. He envies Beka all at once—and he's never really envied Beka before, unless the fact that he's such a badass with a cool motorcycle counts. Yuri supposes it does, but Beka has never been an enigma to Yuri, at least not after that first encounter.

Wondering whether JJ thinks Beka is hard to read, Yuri finally closes that one and scrolls to the next email. There's no message attached to this one, and Yuri suspects he knows why. JJ's hands—and body—are too preoccupied for that.

Until he remembers that this must have happened last month, and he wonder at JJ's restraint in not captioning the photo.

Beka's got two fingers in JJ now, stretching him—Yuri can actually see _inside_ JJ's hole, because Beka must have turned the flash on. Yuri forgets to be mad, because his own hole throbs and flutters in his pants. Jesus, he wants to be JJ's position; he wants Beka's fingers—and other things—prying _him_ open, not JJ.

Things escalate from there: first three of Beka's fingers with a note from JJ, _Beka says I can't take as much as you_ , then the dildo, with lube glimmering on its surface, opening JJ up. Before long, Yuri's gone through all the pictures and he's dying a little in his seat.

JJ, ass clenched around the dildo. JJ, his face rapt as the camera switches for a second to his expression. JJ, his thighs jammed apart by Beka as the dildo slides in and out from photo to photo.

And finally, a few last pictures: JJ's hole, gaping wide and shining, as the dildo just moves out of frame; JJ's cock and belly as he comes, shooting into the air; and Beka's cock shifting into view as he paints parts of JJ's smug face white with his come. Yuri especially likes the fat droplet clinging to JJ's eyelashes.

Yuri goes back through and saves every last one of them, then closes his phone and realizes he's breathing heavily. His cock is impossibly hard, and Yuri's pretty sure that the slightest contact, smallest brush of anything against him, would bring him off.

Yes, he's a teenager, but he still ought to be able to keep from coming in his pants!

What does him in is a little bit of turbulence, knocking his knees together. His cock likes this too much, and Yuri shivers all over, sweat breaking out all over him as he inelegantly jizzes in his pants.

"Are you okay, sir?" asks a solicitous flight attendant. "You seem sick—"

"I'm fine, leave me alone, h—" Yuri starts to yell, then remembers Lilia's warnings on deportment. "I mean, miss." Yuri gives her a sideways glance.

"If you're sure—? Would you like me to get you anything?"

_No, just go away so I can die of mortification in private_ , Yuri thinks. His underwear are all sticky and plastered to his cock now.

What happened after the last picture? Yuri wonders. Did JJ use his fingers to wipe the come from his face—and then lick it off? Would Beka have _kissed_ JJ, to get at it? Probably not, but… it's a nice thought. Yuri doesn't even know when he forgot he was angry.

Still, he's going to give JJ hell for making him jizz in his pants on a plane. Maybe Beka too. Or both.

The pilot announces that they're landing soon, and Yuri gulps the last of his water. He's finally going to get to see Beka in person—and alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Beka's bedroom, Almaty, Kazahkstan, March 15, night**

"Did you like your _extra_ birthday present? Because if not, it was totally JJ's idea and I was drunk." Beka has his hands clasped together, almost like he's thinking about wringing them. The thought makes Yuri want to laugh.

"Well, I thought about killing you. But you and JJ revised my opinion on that subject." Yuri steps into Beka's space. "But you should see the inside of my underwear now."

"Hm, oh yeah?" Beka loosely wraps his arms around Yuri's back. "Kiss me, Yura. I've been waiting for you for so long."

"It was only a few hours," Yuri says, but he goes along easily with Beka's lead, tilting his head up, closing his eyes, and sighing almost wistfully when Beka's lips first touch his.

_This_ is heaven. Possibly the only thing better is winning the Grand Prix Final. Then Beka parts Yuri's lips with his tongue and luxuriously tastes Yuri's mouth, and Yuri changes his mind.

There's nothing better than this.

It feels like forever, the kiss long and lasting, before Beka finally raises his head. His lips are wet and his eyes are hyper-focused on Yuri, the pupils blown so wide as to almost eradicate the brown of his irises.

Yuri immediately wants to kiss him again. He curves his arm around Beka's neck, trying to draw him back in, but Beka shakes his head.

"I want to fuck you, Yura," he says hoarsely. "Is that okay?"

"Do you have to ask?" Yuri says. "Don't you think I've been waiting for this?"

"I don't know, Yura. Sometimes you can be hot and cold."

"I am not." Yuri pouts, and Beka taps his protruding lower lip with his middle finger. "That's your longest finger, Beka," Yuri observes. "I want it inside me."

"You're going to get a lot more than that," Beka promises. "I bought you something else."

"But, Beka—"

"No, Yura. I get to spoil you if I want. But before we get to that…" Beka sweeps the hair out of Yuri's face. "I love your green eyes," he says, a little wistfully, before he drops to his knees.

"Beka?" Yuri is looking down at the top of his head now, and he can't—would he? Yuri gets his answer a moment later, when Beka rolls down the waistband of Yuri's pants. Then, so slowly Yuri dies a little inside, Beka peels Yuri's soiled underwear away from his sticky cock. Beka's hot breath whooshes over him, and Yuri's dick likes that: he's half-hard already.

"You've never had a blowjob, have you, Yura?" Beka reaches under Yuri's cock, which is definitely interested in the proceedings, and cups his balls for a second. "And we've neglected your balls, too," Beka pronounces. Yuri's knees are already a bit weak and Beka hasn't even done anything yet.

"Beka? Do you like JJ?" Yuri asks, even though it has nothing to do with anything currently happening.

"Worry about that later," Beka says, and hefts Yuri's balls; he mouths over them first, leaving a feeling of hot-wet-soft against Yuri's skin. Then, slowly, he drags his tongue up along the vein of Yuri's shaft.

Yuri is acutely aware that his dick is covered in dried, flaky come from the flight, but Beka doesn't seem to mind—no, more than that, Beka seems to be reveling in it. His tongue is catching the little flakes and laving him clean.

"Beka—" Yuri whimpers, almost ashamed of his reaction, except Beka moans when he hears it. The vibration against Yuri's cock causes it to flush completely with blood.

Beka applies a few more kitten licks, then settles his lips against the crown of Yuri's cock; he breathes there for a second, and Yuri's knees are turning to water. When Beka opens his mouth and takes the head of Yuri's cock inside, Yuri instinctively grabs Beka's hair. He yanks, overwhelmed, and it only gets better when Beka's hand finds his balls again and rolls them together, before squeezing gently. At the same instant, he swallows Yuri down completely—in fact if Yuri could get the synapses in his brain to fire properly, he'd ask Beka where he learned this, because even in that first stroke, Beka relaxed his throat and Yuri's cock is halfway down it.

Beka's nose is about an inch from Yuri's lower belly; Yuri can't be impressed with his technique, because he's too busy shaking on his feet. Beka wraps an arm around his thighs and steadies him, all while beginning to move up and down on Yuri's dick. When Beka gets to the top, he swirls his tongue around the head; with his free hand, Beka fists Yuri's cock, jerking down so that his foreskin pulls back, and then Beka licks almost directly into Yuri's slit.

Yuri wants to be able to tell people—mainly JJ—later that he appreciated Beka's superior talents on his first blowjob, that he lasted long enough for it to be respectable, but despite the orgasm on the plane, when Beka's tongue presses against his slit, sucking at the precome there, Yuri balls his hands into fists in Beka's hair and _comes_ , so hard he loses his breath, his legs go out from underneath him, and he winds up in a heap in Beka's arms.

He didn't even able to cry out a warning, but at that last second, Beka's mouth had engulfed him and Beka had practically drunk the come spurting out of his dick.

"There, I've got you," Beka says, and gently lowers him so he's lying on the floor. "Did you like it?"

"Where—" Yuri gasps, still trying to catch his breath, "did you learn that?"

"It's not important. I'll tell you this though: I'm almost nineteen, and I've experimented with guys as well as girls. I've had experience before this, these times with you. I know you haven't, though, Yura, so—"

"I'll learn how," Yuri vows. "Someday I'll give you the best blowjob of your life."

Beka huffs out a laugh. "I bet you will."

Then Beka shifts, looming over Yuri, and drops his head so that he can reach Yuri's mouth. He kisses Yuri again, a deep, wet kiss filled with… well, Yuri doesn't know, not really. He just surrenders himself up to the kiss, to the taste of his come in Beka's mouth.

It seems like they lie there for hours, just exploring each other's mouths, until Beka finally gives a little gasp and slides over so that he's lying next to Yuri. Yuri's lips are swollen and little bit chapped. He's so… content, to be relaxing next to just Beka, who he never has to worry about impressing. He can just be himself, and even if he's obnoxious, Beka doesn't seem to mind.

And then his phone beeps. "Hey, hand me my phone," Yuri says lazily. It's somewhere in the vicinity of his pants, which are on Beka's other side. Beka rifles through the pile of cloth before producing the phone.

"Yuuura," Beka says, "did you know your lockscreen is JJ's fucking dick?"

"I know," Yuri says. "He changed it in Barcelona. I left it because it reminds me that I hate him."

"That doesn't make any sense, Yura," Beka says, "but okay."

Yuri inputs his password and taps on the message icon. "Oh, for fuck's sake, it's stupid JJ. Why is he texting me _now_?"

_hey kitten, i bet you loved that blowjob. Otabek insisted that he get to give you your first one._

_JJ you are INTERRUPTING._ Yuri texts back.

_I bet I am. Does he have his fingers in your ass yet? ;)_

_no, he does NOT. I'll have you know we're just resting._

_kitten, Otabek is the king of blowjobs, trust me. ::kisses:: I will see you soon! Worlds is coming up!_

_Just FUCK RIGHT OFF, JJ_

Yuri stares at his phone uncomprehendingly for a minute after he sends that last text.

"Beka… did you blow _JJ_?" His voice is an unattractive squeak.

Beka caresses Yuri's thigh. "I might have. That fucker is really supposed to keep his mouth shut. Unless he's got a cock in it."

"Really?" Yuri stretches against Beka's magic fingers massaging his thigh. He feels like purring like his cat does when he pets him. "Before I get mad, why don't you tell me why you would fucking blow JJ? And before me?"

"That's the video you have to see on my phone," Beka replies. "All sorts of birthday surprises, just for you, Yura."

"I'm kinda sleepy," Yuri mumbles, his orgasm catching up to him. "Beka, will you… will you—"

"What do you want, Yura? Ask for it, it's yours."

"No one ever…" but Yuri can't push the words past his choked throat. Beka's made him feel kinda soft and gooey inside. Yuri's not used to that feeling. He turns onto his side, holding his arms out.

"Yura… are you asking to cuddle?"

"Fuck you, Beka," Yuri says, but the heat he wants isn't there. Beka is his best friend—surely cuddling your best friend isn't weird?

"Shh, Yura, all right," Beka says and gathers him up into his arms, pulling him close to his chest. Yuri can smell Beka now, his nose digging into Beka's collarbones, and he breathes in: he can smell practice on Beka, the scent of an ice rink, and Beka's sweat. The scent of Beka's innate masculinity makes Yuri's heart thump hard against his ribcage. He closes his eyes.

"I'm glad we're friends," he says, as sleep comes calling. "And that you'll show me how to do all this sex stuff. Thank you, Beka."

"Happy birthday, Yura," Beka whispers against his temple. Just before Yuri drifts off completely, he hears Beka say something that sounds like, _I love you_.

But that's gotta be wrong. Right?

&~&

**Beka's bedroom, still night**

"Hey, Yura, wake up. I have to work in a little while."

Yuri hears the words as if they ripple through the air, but somehow they still make sense. He yawns and blinks his eyes rapidly, waiting for the world to come into focus.

There's only one lamp on, on a low setting, so Beka is outlined by the warm glow. Yuri can feel himself smile, the way his lips curve despite the sleepy haze still clinging to him.

"Beka," he mumbles in response. "I'm still recovering. I think I need a cigarette."

Beka gives him a funny look. He's only half-dressed, and his bare chest looks amazing in the low light; pecs and abs half-shadowed in a way that defines every muscle group. Yuri licks his lips unconsciously. Beka's Adam's apple jumps as he swallows, and Yuri realizes he's lying totally nude on Beka's bed. No wonder Beka kinda looks like a predator ready to pounce. If it were Beka lying naked, licking _his_ lips, Yuri would already be kissing him.

"You don't smoke," Beka says with an odd look on his face. Yuri feels like there's some secret there, but he's still too languid from his orgasm to try to figure it out. "Hurry up, Yura. Don't you want to watch the video that JJ and I made for you?"

"Oh," Yuri says. "Yes." His body warms from the inside out and he remembers just _what_ that video is of.

Pulling his shirt over his head and smoothing it down over his abs, Beka finishes dressing and comes over to the bed, sliding onto it next to Yuri, his phone in his hand.

"Here, Yura," Beka says passing over the phone. "It's here." He points to the icon on his phone, and as Yuri taps it, he catches a quick glimpse of blond hair and green eyes as Beka's background.

But he's immediately distracted by the video as it starts playing. Beka's arm goes around behind Yuri's head, fingers soft and warm on Yuri's collarbones, as the camera comes into focus on Beka on the screen.

It's pretty apparent that JJ is holding the phone, his generous dick in view, hard, flushed red, and dripping, before Beka puts his lips around the head of it. Beka leaves an open-mouthed kiss on it, then licks the slight flare of flesh before dipping his tongue presumably into the vee on the underside of the head.

Yuri can't really see what he's doing for a minute, but he can imagine it after having Beka's mouth on _his_ cock.

In the video, Beka's tongue curls around the crown, then a bead of precome disappears onto his tongue before it slides out of view again. His head moves down, and Yuri visualizes what Beka must be doing: tracing the vein.

"This is where JJ really starts to feel it," Beka whispers into his ear. "The vein throbbed so hard against my tongue, Yura. Now, watch closely."

Beka raises his head a little, quirks his lips at JJ, then he parts his lips and, in one go, takes JJ's entire cock into his mouth. All the way down to the fucking base, his nose only inches from JJ's pubic bone.

Yuri's cock throbs hard, immediately beginning to fill with blood. Beka isn't looking at Yuri—his focus is on the screen—but he suddenly covers Yuri's bare, half-hard cock with his hand, cupping him gently.

On screen, Beka's head bobs a little up and down, and even when JJ becomes overstimulated and his hips buck up, fucking Beka's throat for fuck's sake, Beka doesn't even falter.

"He's a good nine inches," Beka murmurs as he begins to stroke Yuri's cock, up and down, slow and easy. "I'm very good at what I do."

A moan catches in Yuri's throat: between the images on the screen and Beka's hand, plus his filthy commentary, Yuri's _way_ too worked up, cock engorging to full hardness.

"Beka," he says breathlessly. Beka's hand speeds up; Yuri exhales gustily and his hips jerk up even as JJ, in the video, begins to lose control. His hips stutter and his thighs are visibly shaking as he begins to fuck Beka's throat even more. Beka's hand disappears from sight and delves between JJ's partly spread thighs.

"This is where I rolled his balls in my hand," Beka says so softly, Yuri feels turned on just by the timbre of his voice. "Then I stroked down his perineum and slipped my finger inside his hole."

Beka's hand moves for a few seconds, then JJ thrusts up so hard, so deep; Beka's hand reappears just as JJ's cock slides further down his throat.

The camera is shaky now, and angled so he can see Beka's profile as he works JJ over with his mouth and tongue. Yuri imagines he can see the bulge of JJ's dick swelling out Beka's neck as he swallows around the assault, though Yuri can't figure out how Beka can do that without choking. He can _definitely_ see the pressure JJ's girth puts on Beka's cheeks when Beka sucks powerfully. And then JJ cries out.

"Gonna—"

Beka puts his hands on JJ's hipbones and presses him down, then Yuri can see his throat work as he drinks down JJ's come.

Suddenly, Beka's hand is no longer tracing patterns over Yuri's collarbones, but pressing into his hole, just a little.

Embarrassingly, Yuri shoots all over his belly and Beka's hand in time with JJ's orgasm, JJ's moans echoing loudly in his ears.

"Just like that, yes, Yura—come for me." He wiggles the finger back and forth inside Yuri's hole.

Yuri is shaking, body wrung out and spent all over again. Beka's cock is a hard line in his jeans, but he grabs some tissues from beside the bed and cleans Yuri up.

"You didn't— Do you want me to—?"

Beka blushes.

"It's okay. I, uh, got off when you did. Watching you come apart while watching me blow JJ did me in pretty easily. Now come on. Time to get dressed, I have to be at work, and you're coming with me."

Yuri is too flushed with amazement and ecstasy to answer.

&~&

**The club where Beka disc jockeys, 11 p.m.**

Yuri is underage still, but he's allowed in the club because Beka says they're friends and he's visiting. He hangs out at a seat at the bar near where Beka's DJing, swilling vodka like a pro. He's not sure if Beka realizes that Yuri's actually drinking, and Beka probably wouldn't care—except it's been a couple of hours now, and the bartender doesn't seem all that fussed about cutting Yuri off. He's even given Yuri some other things besides vodka to try, like something he calls "the green fairy."

All this is to say that Yuri is, not to put too fine a point on it, really drunk. Really, really drunk. And Beka looks unbelievably hot up there, mixing the music for the club, his skin sweaty in the flashes of strobe lighting.

People all around are dancing, but Yuri's feeling more than a little unsteady; he feels like the stool he's sitting in is rocking. The thing is, though, he just can't get enough of Beka… he'd already thought Beka was super hot, but seeing him now, in his other element besides figure skating, Yuri doesn't think he's _ever_ been as hot as he is right now. Of course, that could be the liquor influencing him.

At one point, Beka glances over, and Yuri's face flushes; he realizes that he's so turned on his eyes are crossing. Well, okay, that could be the alcohol too, but Yuri is definitely aroused. His body is thrumming and he wants Beka _right the fuck now_.

After about another twenty minutes, Beka takes a break; he comes over to Yuri at the bar, eyes flicking to Yuri's empty glass. He raises an eyebrow.

"How much have you had to drink, Yura?" he asks, sounding just a bit concerned.

"Dunno," Yuri says; now that Beka's close enough to touch, he lists off the bar stool a bit and leans against Beka. "You feel so… crunchy," Yuri says, and suspects he's bestowing a dopey smile on Beka.

"Yura, maybe we should—"

"Don' wanna go home yet," Yuri slurs. Distantly he's aware that he might be drunker than he's ever been before, but more at the forefront of his mind is how pretty Beka's cheekbones are, and how long are his eyelashes. "Your eyelashes are like wings, Bek… Beka."

"Okay, seriously, Yuri, how much did you drink?" Beka's face is swimming in and out of focus.

"Did you know you have two noses? Hah! What if you had two cocks, Beka? Then I wouldn't even need JJ." Why is he thinking about JJ right now, when Beka is _right there_ , in front of him, close enough to kiss?

"Shh! Not so loud about my cock, all right? Maybe we should go back to my—"

"N-no, I wanna see you DJ more. You know, Beka, sometimes I think I l-like you. Then I'm not sure 'cause what if you don't like me?"

Beka rolls his eyes—at least, Yuri thinks he does.

"I like you fine, Yura. I like you a lot, not that you'll remember this conversation later, most likely. C'mon. I can ditch the rest of my shift; I was just helping out tonight anyway."

Yuri tries to stand up and topples over into Beka, who is so _strong_! He keeps his feet and then, when it's pretty clear Yuri won't be walking Beka scoops him up and carries him out to his car. He dumps Yuri in the passenger's seat and straps him in while Yuri squirms.

"You're so strong, Beka, and pretty. I wanna do you forever. You think I can just have you in my ass all the time? Like a-a detachable, no wait, that isn't right. I dunno. I wanna touch your cock, Beka." Yuri struggles against his seatbelt, fingers questing along Beka's thigh, until he finds his prize. He's not very coordinated, so he doesn't bother with undoing belt buckles or zippers or anything, he just palms Beka's cock through his jeans—hard.

"No, Yura! Not while I'm driving—we could have an accident." Beka swats at his hand, but one of the best parts of being drunk is how you grow extra tentacles. Yuri keeps finding his way back to Beka's dick.

"Beka, you know, if your dick glowed in the dark, I could find it anywhere."

"I'm putting you to bed as soon as we get back to my house," Beka mutters.

"I want you to fuck me first," Yuri whines. "Such a gorgeous cock… it's like it exploded all over your face." This earns him a very strange look from Beka. "Or on JJ's face. JJ would fuck me," he says slyly. Beka lets out an exasperated breath.

"He might, that's true. But it's not right, Yura. I won't take advantage—"

"What if I said I love you? Would you fuck me then?" Yuri's not sure he's really following the conversation anymore. Beka flinches, though, and that's not right, is it? What if—what if Beka's grossed out by Yuri?

"The firs' person I ever loved was my grandpa," Yuri confesses. "No one else ever liked me."

"I liked you, Yura, the first time I saw you in Yakov's camp. Try not to forget that. And don't say you love someone just for sex, Yura. That's not how these things are supposed to work."

"I think… I think I miss JJ. Huh. That's weird. Don't I hate his guts?" Yuri is definitely getting confused in his own mind now. "It's like loops and swirls," he says. "And everything is funny colors in there, too. I bet if I follow that whirly thing, I'll find a mouse. My cat likes to eat mice."

"What the hell did they give you at the bar?" Beka asks, frowning into the night.

"Firs' it was vodka… then absinthe, I think. Beka, am I a green fairy now?" Yuri's fingers continue to press along the line of Beka's cock despite Beka's efforts to discourage him.

"Stop that!" Beka says, slapping at his tentacles. "I have no idea what you're talking about anymore."

"Me either," says Yuri, and then he passes out.

&~&

**Beka's bedroom/bathroom, middle of the night**

"You should drink some water," Beka says, holding out a full glass. Yuri squints, and tries to take it from him. His tentacles are clumsy, though, and bonk into the glass instead.

"You should fuck me,": Yuri counters. "Look. My dick is hard." Yuri juts out his hips and points to his erection. Beka is still standing with the glass of water, and there's a wet patch on his pants.

"Beka!" Yuri giggles, "You pissed in your jeans."

"No, Yura, that's the water you just spilled." Beka sighs and puts down the glass on the nightstand.

"Ooh," Yuri says, and reaches for Beka. "Are we going to sleep together? Beka?" He remembers his cock and says, "I want your tentacles on me, Beka. Beka Bek Beks Beka."

"Jesus, Yura, you've definitely had enough. I shouldn't have brought you to my club. Damn, if you get sick, Yakov is going to kill me."

"Yakov and Lilia don't know where I am," Yuri confides in an overly loud voice.

"Well, that's just great." Beka doesn't sound happy. Yuri is plenty happy, why isn't Beka? And then his stomach turns.

"Urk, I don' feel so goo—" Yuri clutches at his belly, doubling over. "My _stomach_ feels crunchy."

"And that's my cue," Beka says, hoisting him up, and getting his arm thrown over Beka's shoulder. Yuri can't walk anymore; Beka drags him to the bathroom, and just in time, too.

Yuri, after puking for an indeterminate amount of time, decides that maybe drinking so much wasn't a good idea. Lying with his face pressed to the side of the toilet bowl, he blinks up at Beka through his eyelashes.

"So pretty, Beka. I wanna kiss you. Can we make out like we did this afternoon?"

"No," Beka says, and Yuri wonders why he sounds so grossed out. "Not even after you brush your teeth, because I don't trust your stomach right now."

"You can trust my dick," Yuri says hopefully. "Hey, do you want your blowjob now?"

Beka wrinkles his nose. "No, Yura, because you'd probably puke on me. Maybe tomorrow."

"I wanna know how to make you like me," Yuri whines. "An' JJ. I wanna make JJ… uh. Like me. I don't have any friends, Beka."

"You already know how to make me like you," Beka says. "And JJ _does_ like you. Not that you seem to get that."

"I think—" but then Yuri pukes some more, and afterwards, he's too drained for anymore conversation.

Plastered to the bathroom floor, Yuri is super hot and sweaty, and Beka spends what must be hours wiping his face and the back of his neck with a cool washcloth.

He thinks maybe he falls asleep with Beka's fingers in his hair, soothing strokes over his scalp.

&~&

**Beka's bed/room, early A.M.**

Yuri's eyes feel glued shut when he wakes up in the morning; he has to winch them open. He discovers when he does, though, that he's snuggled into Beka's arms, in Beka's bed. He immediately tries to wriggle free, feeling strangely uncomfortable about actually being in Beka's arms while also sleeping in his bed.

That's pretty gay, right? Yuri frowns, thinking this through. It isn't as if he hasn't been having sex with Beka and JJ for awhile, but that's literally all it is, _just_ sex. Even cuddling wasn't as bad as actually sleeping with Beka spooned up behind him.

Beka must be exhausted, because he doesn't even stir when Yuri extricates himself and slips out of bed. Yuri doesn't remember anything from last night past going to the club. He wonders if he and Beka did it before they fell asleep together. Yuri's naked, his clothes missing as he does a quick search for them. He experimentally probes his ass, to see if it feels tender or otherwise used, but no, the muscle is firm and the skin is soft; there's no pleasant ache from the afterburn, either.

Yuri finds his phone placed neatly on the bedside table and picks it up. He swipes and JJ's naked cock appears. Despite himself, Yuri cracks a little grin. JJ does have a pretty nice dick, especially when it's all erect and flushed pink. Even the cocky—ha, pun intended—tattoo on it just adds to the attractiveness. Actually, Yuri would never say this _to_ JJ, but his tattoos in general are pretty hot, even if some of them are kinda dumb.

In any case, Yuri opens his contact list and thumbs down until he finds Viktor, and presses the send button before he really thinks about the fact that it must be pretty early morning. It rings several times before a sleepy voice picks up—with a Japanese accent. Yuuri.

Scowling a little, Yuri barks, rather too loudly in Beka's very silent bedroom,

"I want to talk to Viktor. You will get him for me!"

"Viktor's sleeping," Yuuri says amidst a yawn. "Can't you call back later, Yurio?"

"Nyet, Katsudon! I have to talk to him right _now_." Yuri stamps his foot, and Beka breathes slightly lighter, a small noise escaping him. Suddenly worried he's going to wake his friend, Yuri takes the phone and hides in the bathroom.

"We still really need to work on your manners," the piggy says. Stupid piggy. But Viktor's soothing Russian fills his ear in a matter of seconds, and Yuri can feel himself relax.

"Whatsamatter, Yurio?" Viktor asks, and Yuri switches to Russian. Beka might understand some of it—but he really wants to keep this conversation as private as possible.

"I woke up naked with Beka this morning," Yuri says. Then he can feel his face glow red, which, thankfully Viktor can't see him. He didn't stop to think about what Viktor might think about this information before he imparted it.

"Yurio? Where _are_ you?" Viktor asks, sounding much more awake. Oh, shit, Yuri thinks, he didn't tell anyone except Beka—and JJ—where he was going. With good reason. Right now Yakov is probably losing his shit over the fact that Yuri's not back in Russia training for Worlds.

Well, that's okay, right? Yuri can practice in Almaty, too.

"Where do you think I am?" he asks belligerently, since if he woke up in Beka's bed, where else _could_ he be?

"Why don't you save me the trouble and just tell me why you're calling? Especially at the asscrack of dawn?"

"Beka was _spooning_ me," Yuri says. "Is that super gay?"

"Yurio…" Viktor says on a long-suffering breath. "Aren't you _fucking_ him?"

"Only sort of," Yuri says. "He gave me a blowjob but we've never—"

"Too much information," Viktor breaks in. "Do you _like_ him?"

"He's my best friend! Actually, I think he's my only friend." Yuri pauses to consider this. "I don't think it can be that gay if we're friends. Viktor… I'll like girls someday, right?"

"I don't know, Yurio. Do you think girls are pretty?" 

"Mila's very pretty," Yuri replies. And she is. But he's not sure he _likes_ her.

"There you go," Viktor says, beginning to sound sleepy again. "I'm going back to bed. A piece of advice, though: why don't you have this conversation with Otabek himself? I'm sure he can help you."

"Fuck, no!" Yuri bursts out. "I'd probably make him hate me. No. Okay, Viktor, you go sleep. But I might call you again!"

"Just not this early in the morning, all right? Dos vedanya, Yurio." There's a click and Yuri's phone switches off.

He can't stop himself from swiping it again just to stare at JJ's cock briefly. Then he unlocks the phone again and regards the picture that is still his homescreen: him and Beka naked in bed together, in Barcelona. He supposes he slept with Beka before, then, but they didn't cuddle that time. No, that time Yuri was sprawled half across the bed, his nude body entirely on display, with Beka flat on his back next to him, just as naked.

"Yura?" Beka's sleepy voice hails him from outside the bathroom. "Are you still sick? You should have woken me. I would have helped you out."

"Why would I be sick?" Yuri asks, confused. "Hey, Beka, where are my clothes? Did we fuck last night? I mean, it didn't feel like it but—"

"No!" gasps Beka, sounding scandalized. "You were so drunk on absinthe, Yura, I would never. You kept mumbling something about tentacles, too. Anyway, no. You puked all down your front last night so I put your clothes in the wash just before I put you to bed. Would you like some more water? Coffee?"

"No," Yuri says decisively. "I want your cock, Beka."

"You're seriously a nympho." Beka sounds awed, but that might be because of the door separating them. Yuri opens it. Beka's hair is tousled and his chest down to the delicious vee that dips into his boxer briefs is flushed a soft rose from sleep. Oh, for some reason that makes Yuri's heart pound. Yuri puts a hand to his chest and tries to stop the way his heart is flailing in there, but it's no use.

"Take me to bed?" Yuri asks hopefully. Beka shakes his head.

"Shower first. And brush your teeth. I'll get you something of mine to wear."

"I brought clothes," Yuri protests, but Beka gives him a sideways smile.

"I know you did. I just want to watch you walk around in nothing but my shirt."

Oh. Yuri is certain that now _he's_ red all over, and his current state of undress isn't hiding much. Or anything, really. His dick is half-hard, and he feels hot, and sticky, all at once.

"Take a shower with me?" Yuri widens his eyes for maximum effect. Beka sighs.

"Of course I will, Yura. You know I can't say no to you about anything. Be right back." Beka's eyes linger on Yuri, and Yuri wonders what Beka's opinion on what he see is. He isn't usually, but suddenly Yuri is self-conscious; his body is still incredibly slender, tiny. Does Beka regret it? Does he wish he were fucking someone… older?

"Don't be stupid," Yuri mutters under his breath in Russian. "He wouldn't have fucked you if he didn't like it." Yuri pokes at himself again, wondering if Beka will fuck him in the shower.

He finds his toothbrush where he put it when he first got there, and brushes his teeth while he waits for Beka to come back. He shoves at his hair as he looks in the mirror, examining himself. It isn't like he hasn't been naked in front of Beka tons of times by now, but _now_ , he's sixteen. He smooths a hand over his chin, hoping for some kind of… well, anything really. Something to make that stupid JJ shut up by the next time he seems him.

His eyes, he notices, are very green this morning, and the paleness of his hair makes them even more striking. Beka returns to find him leaning over the sink and poking at his cheek.

"What are you doing, Yura?" Beka asks. He puts a folded shirt down on the hamper. "I can't wait to see you in this."

"Is this a zit?" Yuri asks incredulously, tilting his head for Beka to look. "I didn't sign up for this," he adds. "If I'm going to get older, I want to be perfect. Hey, Beka, can we skate at your home rink?"

"One thing at a time, Yura," Beka says. "And no, I don't think that's a zit. I think it's just a sleep mark."

"Oh, yay," Yuri says, happily. He always feels so much better whenever Beka's around. He's going to have to be extra careful not to fuck it up, because what would he do without his best friend? "Hey, I asked you if you liked JJ yesterday. Why didn't you answer me?"

"Do you _really_ want an answer to that?" Beka asks. "Won't you be _jealous_ if I said I liked JJ?"

"Well, that depends," Yuri says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Do you like JJ _more_ than me?"

"Relax, Yura," Beka says, a little curve to his lips. Someday, Yuri wants to make him smile for _real_ , a big, unrestrained smile. "JJ and I spent some time as rink mates, but… listen, Yura, he's not my favorite person, but he's not all bad. It's hard for him to make friends, and—"

"Pah," Yuri interrupts. "JJ doesn't _have_ any friends. I'm not even sure Isabella likes him."

"Yura… don't take this as a criticism in the sense that I don't like you, because I always will, but can't you _try_ to be kind?"

"Why should I?" Yuri snaps. "No one is kind to _me_."

"Those aren't the requirements for being kind to other people, Yura. It also isn't true. Plenty of people _do_ like you."

"Oh yeah? Why don't you just stop avoiding the question?" Yuri is angry now. "You _do_ like JJ better than me."

"Jesus, Yura, way to miss the point. Of course I don't. I've wanted you to notice me since we were at Yakov's camp. You think JJ, of all people, is going to change that? No. I'm just saying. JJ's friendships with other skaters have almost all faded away. He—"

"Stop defending him! I don't want to hear about JJ!"

"You _asked_ ," Beka says, sounding frustrated. "Just forget it, Yuri."

"I hate that stupid, smug fuckhead," Yuri says furiously. "He's going to ruin everything."

Beka sighs. "You don't _really_ hate him, Yura."

"Yes, I do," Yuri insists. He throws his arms out. "I feel gross. I want that shower now." He drops his arms to his sides again and bestows a hopeful smile on Beka. Is Beka gonna be mad?

"You're right," Beka says. "Time for a shower. I'll get the water ready. Do you mind using my shampoo?"

A frisson of something he doesn't know how to name runs through Yuri. He'll smell like _Beka_ > when this shower is finished, and that makes him feel… funny. But in a good way, if the fact that his hormones react and he finds himself suddenly sporting a hard-on is any indication. Beka raises an eyebrow.

"Just get it ready," Yuri begs. "I didn't bring any of that stuff, anyway. I didn't want it to leak in my luggage."

Beka looks like he wants to say something about whether Yuri actually takes care of his hair—he doesn't, not really; he lets Lilia wash it once in awhile and he will wash it himself but he doesn't exactly expend a lot of energy worrying about it—but he bites it back. Or maybe Beka wanted to say something completely different; it's not like Yuri's a mind reader.

" _You_ seem to be ready," Beka remarks, pointedly _not_ looking at Yuri's erection. This fact, that Beka's almost hyper-focused on Yuri's face, suggests to Yuri that Beka is well-aware of just how _interested_ Yuri is all of a sudden.

"Bekaaaa," whines Yuri, and Beka shakes his head.

"I thought you turned sixteen two weeks ago, Yura," he says, turning the knobs in the shower. "Let me know if it's too hot."

"Hey, Beka," Yuri says, a question popping into his head. "Is it like, weird for us to shower together?"

"Weird in what way?" Beka asks, sounding entirely too innocent. He fluffs Yuri's hair a little. "C'mon, in you get."

"I dunno," Yuri says slowly. "I guess it wouldn't be weird. I mean, we all shower together at the rink, right?"

Beka casts a glance at him, but holds open the shower curtain. Yuri abandons that line of questioning and climbs inside. The water is perfect: how did Beka know?

Beka sheds his boxer-briefs—Yuri can't help staring, all that muscular, glorious perfection—and enters the shower behind Yuri. 

"Turn around, Yuri," he says, gently touching Yuri's shoulders. Yuri shivers; will Beka fuck him now? "Stand under the spray for a minute. Get your hair wet, and I'll wash it."

Yuri almost moans when Beka's hands slide into his hair, scrunching it beneath his fingers as he works the soap in. Yuri almost forgets to close his eyes, it feels so good. Then he closes them for the same reason: pleasure.

Beka's shampoo smells _really_ fucking good, and God, it makes every single sexy thought Yuri's ever had about Beka rise to the surface. He's starting to wonder, though…

"Beka? Tell me the truth. If I smell like you, does that make us boyfriends?"

"I don't know, Yura," Beka says, his hands still massaging Yuri's scalp. "It depends on if you have… feelings… for me. Although, I honestly don't think what you smell like has anything to do with it." Beka pauses for a minute, then says, "Tip your head back. Yura, you always smell amazing to me."

Beka rinses his hair incredibly gently, running his fingers through it until all the soap is gone, and Yuri is a boneless mess against Beka's front. He's literally having trouble staying on his feet, and Beka has one iron-strong arm around Yuri's middle, holding him flush against his body.

Yuri lets out a breath; Beka is hot, solid, and so _hard_ against him: his cock in particular, jutting up against Yuri's lower back, fitting rather perfectly into the indentation of his spine. But Beka's just holding him that way, not doing anything else, so Yuri grinds backwards against him.

"Yura!" Beka says on a gasp. His body is suddenly trembling against Yuri's, and his hips, just for a second, shift forward against Yuri, driving his cock into his spine. But that's not what Yuri really _wants_.

"I want you to fuck me," he says, trying to reach back between them to get a hold on Beka's dick.

"Not in the shower," Beka says sounding strangled. "I have something better planned. Remember, Yura, I'm a little older than you. I don't recover as quickly."

"So we'll wait a couple hours," Yuri argues. "Fuck me _now_ , Beka, I know you want to, I can feel it. You think you can hide that evidence?"

"Someone—probably JJ—should have thought about it more before introducing you to sex," Beka says. Yuri wiggles his ass against Beka; surely with the right provocation, Beka will just give in and fuck him? "You're a little shit, Yura," Beka tells him. "Stop that."

So Yuri steadies himself and tries to step out of Beka's arms.

"You don't wanna fuck me, then?" He tries to turn around, to see Beka's face, but Beka just captures him with an arm again.

"We're not done washing," he says. "And I pretty much always want to fuck you. But this isn't the right time. Patience, Yura."

"You know what, Beka, you had sex with me over Skype before I ever fucked JJ," Yuri says. He feels proud of himself for this logic, but Beka scoffs.

"It is _not_ the same. That was masturbation. Damn that JJ. He should have understood that—no, never mind."

"What?" Yuri squirms. "What were you going to say?"

"Do you want me to wash you down, or do you want to do it yourself?" Beka has produced a washcloth and a squirty bottle of some kind of body wash.

"I can wash myself, Jesus," Yuri says. But then he thinks about that question for a second. Beka asked what he _wanted_. How gay is it to let another guy wash your back?

Yuri's starting to wonder when these thoughts snuck in, about whether what he was doing was gay. Does it even matter?

"Beka? Does being a figure skater make me gay?"

"I'm never letting you drink absinthe again," Beka says under his breath. "Why all the questions?"

"I don't know." Yuri shrugs. "I don't have anyone else to ask. Viktor is useless." He holds out his hands for the washcloth, but Beka is considering him.

"No, I think I'll do it," he says. "Okay, turn around again, Yura, facing me this time."

Yuri is torn between the desire for independence and a curiosity as to what it would be like to be washed by someone else at his age, especially someone who, if not his boyfriend, is definitely a lover. He thinks.

"Beka? Are we lovers?" Yuri asks, feeling suddenly shy and a little bit unsure of himself. Beka manipulates Yuri's left arm so that he's raised it, and then indicates Yuri should lift the other. Once Yuri has done that, Beka slowly soaps his arms with the washcloth.

It tickles a little at the inside of his elbows, and for some reason, when Beka gently scrubs at his underarms, Yuri feels a little shiver. It's surprisingly erotic, the way Beka's hands are both firm and careful, even tender, against Yuri's skin. When he finishes Yuri's arms, he gestures that Yuri keep his arms raised so that he can scrub down the sides of his ribcage. Yuri's hard-on _really_ likes this, actually. Beka runs the washcloth down Yuri's sides, along his ribs then over his chest and belly.

He follows his movements with the washcloth with his other hand, skimming down over Yuri's soapy skin, soft, almost insubstantial touches. That does things to Yuri that he wouldn't have expected—he'd been so fond of the powerful, confident caresses of JJ that Beka's reverent ones almost drive Yuri out of his mind.

Beka then palms his chest, sliding his hand over Yuri's damp skin, fingers ever-so-lightly sweeping over each nipple. By this point Yuri's chest is heaving with suppressed arousal as he tries not to attack Beka and climb him like a tree or something. Beka's hands are working magic on Yuri's skin, leaving trails of what feels like sparklers against his nerves.

"Beka?" Yuri asks in a small voice, afraid to break the spell. He reaches for Beka, but his friend gently pushes his arms down, then, almost teasingly, Beka smooths the washcloth down Yuri's chest, to his belly—and then to his thighs, one, then the other. Yuri's cock bobs against his belly and basically begs for attention, and Beka ignores it. He goes down on one knee and soaps up Yuri's legs, beginning at his ankles and stroking upward with the cloth. Yuri's body is afire with sensation now. He's never experienced anything like this.

When Beka finally brings the washcloth back up to the apex of Yuri's thighs, he drops it to the bottom of the tub and rinses Yuri by cupping his hands with water. Then, only then, does he settle onto both knees.

Yuri's entire body shakes, almost coming apart, when Beka washes his dick with his fucking tongue. Lick after lick, it's not a blowjob but a ministration, and Yuri can't decide if he wants to come all over Beka's face or get on his own knees and make out with Beka for, oh, just hours.

And then it's over, Beka standing again, urging him under the spray, rinsing him with his hands. And then Beka finally answers him.

"Okay, now turn around," Beka says, motioning with his hand. Yuri's befuddled due to the leftover arousal from Beka's tongue on his dick, but then it clears somewhat and he realizes Beka intends to wash his back.

So he presents Beka with his back; the washcloth slides down over his skin with an almost biting gentleness, and when Beka gets to his ass, he cups each cheek as he washes it. Then Beka spreads him a little and runs the washcloth in between his buttocks. It, just for a split second, ghosts over his hole and Yuri lurches forward a little before his body takes over and instinctively pushes back.

"Easy, Yura," Beka whispers, patting him on the ass and then the washcloth is gone, down the backs of his thighs and his legs.

Beka continues to clean him with the utmost care; he's slow and methodical about it, and every place he touches burns with arousal. Yuri is being consumed by it, inch by inch flaring into ashes as Beka simultaneously washes and inflames him.

"Okay," Beka says in a hushed voice, "rinsing." Suddenly the spray of the shower is against Yuri's spine and the backs of his legs, and then Beka's pressed up behind him, guiding Yuri back around to facing him with his hands.

And then Beka finally answers his question about whether they're lovers..

"It's up to you, Yura. Do you think we're lovers?" Beka runs his hands down over Yuri's shoulders, his arms. "I know that I love touching you. That fucking you will be a dream come true."

His cock aching, Yuri winds his arms around Beka's neck. He parts his lips a little, licking them, and waits in an almost unbearable state of anticipation for Beka to close those last few inches— _and they're kissing._

Beka's hands wind up linked just above the curve of Yuri's ass, and his mouth is soft and lovely against Yuri's lips, his tongue tiptoeing through Yuri's mouth.

Yuri moans and goes _en pointe_ , trying to get as much of Beka as he can.

Then, before he realizes it, the kiss is over and Beka is gazing into his eyes. He has a flicker of recognition, memory, and says,

"You do have really long eyelashes."

Beka ignores this. He rubs beneath Yuri's underarm, over the stubble there; raises an eyebrow in question.

"Yura. Do you want me to shave your armpits? Because I want to do that for you, too."

He can feel his eyes widen. Again, his dick pounds in time with his heart. How could this be so arousing? It isn't even sex. Yuri is terribly confused. But he lifts his arms again, silent acquiescence, and Beka produces shaving cream from a plastic caddy suction-cupped to the wall. He oh-so-gently lathers up Yuri's underarms, then sets the shaving cream back in the caddy and takes out the razor.

Beka uses a steady, even hand to draw the razor down through the shaving cream, making Yuri's underarms soft and smooth again. He's used to shaving them himself because he's a figure skater, but this is a whole new world for him. This is working him up; each stroke of the razor is an edge of danger, a thrill to his nerves, and Yuri's so oversensitized now that he's pretty sure just about anything could make him come.

The last stroke of the razor, and then Beka rinses him again. Even the droplets of water on his skin are making his hips thrust forward, searching for friction. Beka doesn't leave him hanging, though; he slides his hand down Yuri's spine, fingers questing cleverly until he's right at Yuri's entrance.

Yuri cries out, body taut like a guitar string, and he feels like he _is_ a musical instrument being so expertly played, as Beka pushes his finger inside.

That's all it takes: Yuri almost screams as his body topples forward, Beka catching him as he shakes apart and his dick spurts and spurts onto Beka.

"Now," Beka whispers in his ear, "we're lovers."

Even though he can barely stand, Yuri rubs his wet face against Beka's chest and says,

"If we _are_ lovers, why haven't I gotten you off yet?" He can feel himself going red, though why he should be embarrassed by the question when Beka has seen him say—and do—much worse, Yuri doesn't know. He wonders if his face feels as hot to Beka as it does to him.

Beka's silent for what feels like a long time; Yuri begins to worry he's said or done something wrong. Is Beka trying to think of a way to take it back? Well, Yuri won't let him! Yuri is going to cherish those words, even if he's still not entirely sure what they mean, or how to react to them. Being lovers is such a big thing for the piggy and Viktor… Yuri doesn't want to be like _them_. They're disgusting with all their mushy love talk and oogly-moogly eyes.

"You will," Beka finally says. "We have an appointment, Yura, and we don't want to be late."

"What kind of appointment?" Yuri asks, puzzled by what they could possibly have to do _while_ Yuri is visiting. "You're still hard. Don't you want me to—"

"Later. And you'll see. Time to get out." And Beka nudges him with his foot. Yuri tosses him a glare, but emerges from the shower. The entire bathroom is wreathed in steam, and it feels like being cocooned in a magical world where only he and Beka exist. Fuck JJ, anyway. He can go find his own planet to hang out on.

Beka's in the shower for a couple minutes longer, and Yuri remembers somewhat guiltily that he jizzed all over Beka. He's inclined to think Beka's washing himself, now, but a little part of his mind questions whether Beka just didn't want _Yuri_ to get him off; maybe he's jacking it right now in there, alone. He doesn't hear any moaning or anything, yet… maybe Beka's just holding it in so he doesn't upset Yuri.

But when Beka gets out, his dick is still at half-mast, suggesting that maybe Beka was serious about his recovery time and not blowing it too soon.

Beka dries him, too, with a fluffy towel, and blow dries his hair. Yuri's never felt—nor been—so pampered in his life. Not even Lilia preparing him for competitions feels like this. Like… _love_ , though Yuri's mind rebels at even coming up with the word.

What would Beka think?


	4. Chapter 4

**Beka's bedroom, 9 a.m., Almaty, Kazakhstan / 11 p.m. in Montréal, QC, Canada**

"Are you ready?" Beka asks, when they finally make it back into his room. Yuri is indeed wearing Beka's shirt, and it hangs on his slim frame; the shoulders are too wide and the shirt is just a little too long, falling to mid-thigh. Yuri is not wearing anything beneath it. It's soft and smells like Beka, and not just his shampoo or his body wash but his skin. Yuri revels in the scent and wishes he could be surrounded by it all the time, even though fairly soon he has to go back home to St. Petersburg. He doesn't want to. He wants to stay with Beka forever.

"For what?" Yuri asks, trying to sniff the shirt without Beka noticing. The problem is, Beka has been eyeing him up since he put it on; Yuri thinks—though he doesn't know, because Beka hasn't said anything—that Beka's enjoying the view. After all, it flutters around his thighs and ass as he walks, and ever since he put it on, Beka's been staring at him with hungry, dark eyes.

"Your birthday present. The one I mentioned when you got here? And for the fucking you've been so desperately begging for." Beka walks up to Yuri and frames his face with his hands. His thumbs make little circles on Yuri's cheekbones, and for the first time it really occurs to him: Beka acts very _romantic_ with him. Yuri's only experience with romance is from movies and television, so to discover all at once that Beka is being _romantic_... but that's not what he wants at all. He doesn't want to be treated like a _girl_ , for fuck's sake.

He pushes Beka's hands away, and a flash of something is there and gone from Beka's face. So fast, Yuri thinks he made it up. But then Beka is as stoic as ever—and Yuri realizes that, since he's been in Almaty he can't really remember the last time Beka wore that stoic look in his presence.

Yuri feels bad. But he's still not going to submit to being a fucking _girl_ , especially since he's still not sure what this thing with Beka is. It's still just sex, right? Even if Beka admitted they're lovers, that doesn't make it… but here Yuri's thoughts become tangled and confused, and so he gives a mental shake of his head and gives up. He's sixteen. He has plenty of time to figure it out.

"I just want the fucking," Yuri says, watching Beka, but really he's staring at his chest. "You don't have to act like I'll break."

"What are you talking about?" Beka asks, and now _he_ looks confused. Yuri steals a glance at his face—Beka's eyes are slightly clouded. Dammit. He hurt Beka's feelings—and for all he knows, Beka will eventually lose patience with Yuri's bad temper and his foul nature and decide to cut his losses and run.

Sometimes, even though he knows he can't help who he is, he hates himself. He can occasionally remember being very young, and his grandpa praising him for doing something nice for someone. But that was a long time ago: before his mother left, before he realized he would never have any friends because he was—is—completely unlovable.

"I—" But now Yuri doesn't know how to explain his feelings. Especially not without making Beka's eyes even sadder. "You're treating me like a girl," he finally settles on.

"No, I'm not," Beka says in confusion. His eyes clear somewhat. "Is that what you're so prickly about? Yura, it's not shameful to be soft with someone else."

"I don't know what you mean," Yuri says, shifting from foot to foot. He links his hands behind his back and meets Beka's eyes again. "I'm not hard right now but I could be."

Beka's face brightens a little; a smidgen of amusement.

"Not that kind of soft, Yura. I meant in the feelings-sense. You're always so on edge, so quick to anger. No, that's not what I meant at all. If I touch you, it's because I want to. Don't you ever just want to _touch_ someone?"

"Uh," Yuri says, thinking about it. "I guess I like JJ's ass a lot. I'd be fucking happy to touch _that_."

"I'll tell him you said so," Beka says wryly. "Seriously, still not what I meant. Forget it. C'mere. Your present's on the floor next to the bed."

Yuri's so excited by the gaily wrapped package that he doesn't notice Beka's computer is on until he hears,

"Good morning, kitten. Did you miss me?"

Yuri abandons the gift and whirls towards Beka's computer—JJ is relaxing on his bed in the frame, legs partway spread in unzipped jeans and his obnoxious go-to smile on his face.

"JJ! What the fuck?" Yuri yells, before suddenly Beka's hand is warm and curled around the nape of his neck.

"Don't be mad, Yura," Beka says softly. "JJ missed you."

"I didn't miss him," Yuri says spitefully, but JJ just laughs.

"That's my feisty, nasty little kitten. No matter. Are you ready, Otabek?" JJ slips his hand in the opening of his jeans and despite himself Yuri finds himself looking. There is something undeniably hot about the mystery, even if he's seen it all before.

"Will be as soon as Yura remembers to open his gift," Beka says. Then, when Yuri, who is kneeling on the floor, glances up to look at Beka, his friend is casually stripping out of his boxer-briefs.

"I'm right here," Yuri growls, feeling like the misunderstood Ice Tiger that he is. But it's difficult to stay angry at the sight of Beka in all his magnificent glory, only inches away and nude. His cock is dangling soft between his legs and Yuri realizes that Beka needs _more_ —needs _him_. His hand is curling around Beka's dick before either Beka or JJ can say anything, and at first it's a mystery why Beka peels his fingers away. "But, Beka—"

"Not yet, Yura. Patience. Open your gift so that we can get started."

"What's going on?" Yuri asks, feeling slightly panicky. It's not that he doesn't want sex—even with JJ involved—but he doesn't like the implication of being kept in the dark.

"Kitten, it's okay," JJ says, and Yuri's gaze swings wildly back to the screen. "Beka's going to fuck you, and I'm going to watch. Not so complicated, is it?"

But Yuri's not sure. He'd planned on being with Beka alone. He'd _wanted_ Beka alone, to himself. Now he's anxious about the fact that JJ is here—sort of—and might commandeer Beka's attention. He really wants Beka to focus on him alone.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Beka interjects. "But, Yura, relax. It's still just the two of us." This last bit is breathed against his scalp, into his hair. JJ can undoubtedly see what Beka's doing, but he can't hear him.

"Fine," Yuri says, with bad grace. "But I want JJ to shut up while you fuck me."

"The time for that game is over, kitten," JJ tells him. "And I seem to recall you took great pleasure in gagging me with a towel you'd just jizzed all over."

Busted. Yuri hadn't thought JJ had noticed, since he'd never said a word about it—until now.

"I bet you liked it," Yuri grumbles. He decides to ignore JJ in favor of tearing the wrapping off the present Beka got him. But JJ isn't so amenable.

"Of course I did," JJ agrees cheerfully. "I loved the taste of my little tiger kitten on my tongue."

Finally, finally Beka steps in.

"He's not yours, JJ," Beka says.

"Not yours either," JJ replies easily. Yuri is almost completely distracted by what's in the package that he misses the exchange—but he doesn't.

"I don't belong to anyone," Yuri snaps. "Especially not to _you_ , JJ. I'm not part of your _JJ style_ , that you can just use me as an accessory whenever you please."

Again, something akin to hurt flickers on JJ's face. Yuri refuses to feel guilty about it. JJ keeps poking his _cock_ where it doesn't belong. Namely in Yuri's face when Yuri has Beka to be with.

"Yuri," JJ says, and Yuri's head jerks up at the serious tone of voice—and the use of his real name. "You may not be aware of this, but I think you're cute. Even your bad temper. Mostly. But I'm not a _complete_ masochist. I'm not going to lie back and let you abuse me forever."

Yuri's eyes widen, then narrow. JJ is being awfully serious—but when is he ever _really_ serious?

"You sure seemed to like it when I smacked your cock," Yuri reminds him. JJ's own eyes narrow, and the good-natured expression on his face is gone.

"Otabek's okay," JJ says, "but don't you _ever_ tell anyone else about that."

"JJ," Yuri says. "You mean, like Izzy? Or the press?"

"Even _you_ wouldn't," JJ says. "Other than fuck you and be _nice_ to you, Yuri, what have I ever done to you?"

Okay, now Yuri _does_ feel guilty—and suitably chastened.

"I wouldn't tell," he mutters. "Hey, JJ. Tell me something. Does Izzy know you like it in the ass? Does she give it to you that way?"

JJ colors.

"Izzy and I haven't… we've never… she's waiting until marriage." JJ's voice is unsteady.

"Seriously?" Yuri is surprised but this. It's so almost completely _unbelievable_ , that JJ would be willing to wait. 

"Is that why you fucked me?" He regards JJ and then says, "But _you're_ not. Does she know that vow only pertains to her? Wait, didn't you say she had— that you had—"

"I er, lied." Glossing past that quickly, JJ says,

"Kitten—" apparently recovering some of his equilibrium "—why are we talking about my fiancée when we could be talking about you? Answer me this: have you ever come without something in your ass?"

It's Yuri's turn to become colorful. He presses the palms of both hands to his heated cheeks, and JJ laughs.

"I just did," Yuri says defensively. "Yesterday. From the blowjob that Beka gave me." Beka, who's been very silent during this exchange. "Beka?"

"I'm still here, Yura," Beka says, absently. Yuri lifts his head to see why Beka's so quiet—and gets a shocking surprise.

"Is _that_ how it works?" Yuri asks, staring at Beka's midsection and below. He's almost distracted by Beka's amazing muscles—but not quite, not when what's below is so interesting.

Now it's JJ's turn to be quiet, only his breathing caught by the microphone.

Beka's wearing some kind of harness, and above his cock, which he has teased—by himself, Yuri thinks with disappointment—to full hardness, is a jutting fake dick. Yuri touches it curiously, unable to help himself. He examines the whole getup more closely: there's an opening beneath the dildo to allow Beka's cock to poke through, and the result is that Beka can fuck Yuri with two cocks at once. Beneath Beka's shirt, Yuri's own dick is very pleased by the proceedings; it's swelling and causing the hem of Beka's shirt to rise. He's already wet, too: the little circle of fluid on the fabric is quickly spreading.

"We don't even _need_ JJ!" Yuri says.

"Be nice, Yura," Beka says, as he finishes fiddling with the strap-on. Yuri might be well-versed in Russian porn, but he's never seen a _guy_ wear one of these before. It's equal parts compelling and exciting.

"Fine," huffs Yuri. He may be bad-tempered… but he'll be nice to JJ if it means Beka will fuck him like that. "I can't believe you got me that," he says in wonder, reaching up to run a fingertip along the length of the silicone shaft. It's soft—almost like real skin, though the silkiness of the skin encasing Beka's erection is nothing like a toy could ever replicate.

"JJ picked it out," Beka says; there's the faintest flush of rose tinging the tips of his ears. "He was, I think, almost as excited at seeing me in it as he was about watching me fuck you with it."

"That's definitely true," JJ confirms; a peek at the computer screen reveals that JJ is still lying lazily on his back, and his hand is still half-hidden by his jeans—but it's moving slowly as JJ strokes himself underneath the denim.

Yuri's fascination with it, as he tries to close his fist around both Beka's real hardness and the artificial hardness of the toy, seems to amuse JJ. Especially when his hand is too small to do it.

"You're a total cockslut, aren't you, kitten?" he says. "Wish I was there with you? Do you want mine inside you again, baby? It's pretty huge. Did I ever tell you how hot it was, watching that tiny little body eat up the inches of both my cock and Otabek's at the same time? I've been jerking off to that image for months."

"I bet you have," Yuri says. "I bet it's with all the other pictures you took in Barcelona."

"No, sadly," JJ says, sounding tragically sad. "That one I have to recreate in my brain."

"Okay," says Beka. "I'm ready. Yura, can you open that bottom drawer there? That's where I keep the lube. And the condoms."

"No," Yuri says instantly. "No condoms."

"Yura…" Beka says warningly.

"No," Yuri repeats. "It's my birthday wish. I wanna _feel_ you, Beka! Not some stupid latex sock."

"It's a bad idea—" Beka tries, without success.

"You know I'm clean," Yuri says reasonably. "I showed you the test results over Skype. And I trust you. I know you haven't been fucking around, and you were clean back in Barcelona."

"It's just a good safe sex practice, Yura—"

"Then we don't need it. I'm never going to have sex with anyone else."

"What about JJ?" Beka asks, indicating the computer screen.

"Fine," Yuri says with a frown. "I might fuck JJ again. But it's fine. He's not going to hurt me." Strangely, as Yuri says this, he realizes it's true. When did he start to fucking _trust_ JJ?

"Yura, you're missing the point. You're sixteen years old. You might end up having sex with more people throughout your lifetime, and you should—"

" _Okay_ ," Yuri says forcefully, and then, as Beka's face relaxes, Yuri continues, "I'll consider using condoms for other people, if I ever want to fuck any of them. But not with you. Not even with JJ, I guess. Either you do it my way or we don't."

Yuri is proud of the fact that his voice doesn't waver over the ultimatum, even though his dick—and ass—is basically screaming at him to lie back and let Beka split him open with those two cocks. Beka doesn't have to know it's a bluff.

Beka sighs, a long puff poof of air. He shrugs his shoulders in defeat.

"I blame this on you, Jean-Jacques Leroy," he says, as he eyes Yuri. "All right, Yuri, you win. No condoms. But just remember: you promised me you would use one with other people besides me and JJ."

"I will," Yuri says, offering up a sweet smile. Negotiations completed, Yuri's ready to have his ass filled. "Are you _finally_ going to fuck me?" he asks hopefully. Things seems to be trending in that direction, but Yuri wants to be certain.

"You didn't get the lube," Beka reminds him.

"Oh yeah," Yuri says, and opens the drawer Beka indicated. The lube is strawberry flavored, and Yuri flips the cap open and sniffs it. "Strawberry is my favorite," he says, and Beka's skin has definitely pinkened now.

"I know," he says. "Do you wanna do the honors?" Beka asks, waving a hand towards his harness with the silicone dildo attached.

"Turn a little to the left, Otabek. I can't see as well as I'd like to," JJ says. Yuri turns to give him a dirty look, but he's greeted by the sight of JJ's huge dick out, as if it's waving hello. He ends up getting distracted by watching JJ push his jeans down his lean hips, then stretch luxuriously, winding up with his feet planted on the bed, his knees spread, and his ass in the air, a pillow beneath him.

"Jesus, JJ," Yuri finds himself saying with more than a small amount of appreciation. JJ gives him a wicked grin and produces a butt plug. Yuri's eyes definitely widen at that.

"You like what you see, kitten?" JJ waves the buttplug at the camera. "Bet you wish you could be the one to shove this inside me. Think of all the kinky fun we could have, kitten."

"I don't wanna shove a buttplug up your ass," Yuri says firmly. "I wanna shove my _dick_ up there. Maybe you should work on stretching yourself before Worlds."

" _Cocky_ ," JJ says, "I like. But your dick's not here right now—" he pouts "—and so I have to make do with something else. Hey, Yuri-chan. Will you wear the buttplug while you fuck me?" JJ waggles his eyebrows.

"Sure, why not," Yuri says dismissively. He's trying not to let JJ know how much the idea turns him on. But his body betrays him: cock jerking up towards his belly.

"Ooh, the little kitten _likes_ that," JJ glerks. Yuri flips him off and then, with a guilty start, remembers Beka—who's probably still standing there, worked up, and completely ignored.

"Beka!" he says, turning back to his best friend. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's fine, Yura," Beka says. He nods towards the computer. "I _want_ you to acknowledge JJ."

"I guess it's okay," Yuri concedes. "If JJ could just try to shut up once in awhile."

"I'm wounded, kitten," JJ says, putting his hand over his heart. "I'm not gonna be quiet just for you, baby. Just let Otabek and me take care of you."

"You're in _Montréal_ ," Yuri says. "You can't—"

"Yura." Beka's voice is quiet, but it cuts like a knife through the bickering. "If you want me to fuck you, then you need to stop baiting JJ and actually get ready."

"He's baiting _me_!" Yuri protests. Beka rolls his eyes.

"You're both like children," Beka sighs. "Lie back—"

"No," interjects JJ. "On his hands and knees. Facing me. I wanna see the kitten's face when he comes."

"Ugh," Yuri says. "How embarrassing. Beka, do you want me to take your shirt off?"

"No. Leave it on. It's hotter that way." Beka sounds faintly ashamed of himself for thinking so, though that could be Yuri's imagination. He plucks at the front of the shirt; it sticks for a second against his leaking cock, and then pulls away from it. Yuri lets the hem drop again; his cock halts its progress and glancing up, he realizes JJ is watching him with a keen expression on his face.

"Otabek's right, that's pretty fucking hot," JJ remarks. "I like your cock peeking out from under the shirt, it's pretty sexy."

"I'm just going to ignore you," Yuri says. "I can pretend you're not there."

"I bet you won't be able to," JJ parries. "Just _try_ it, kitten: to ignore my cock in your face while Beka pounds the piss out of you."

"Have you seen Russian porn?. And you _wish_ ," Yuri shoots back. "Maybe I'll just close my eyes. Bet you can't get off on it if you don't have me feeding your _massive_ ego."

"That isn't all that's massive, kitten," JJ says boastfully.. "And I promise you'll regret it if you miss the show."

"I thought _I_ was the show, the meat in the menu, so to speak." Yuri curls his lips in a devious grin.

"Oh, nice one." JJ claps, and Yuri's eyes are drawn to him again. JJ's got a ginormous bottle of lube, and from the red cap, Yuri would bet good Russian rubles that it's also strawberry flavored.

"I dare you to fuck yourself open without lube," Yuri says; he's rewarded by a smack on the ass from Beka.

"Don't be a fucking dick, Yura," he says, and he sounds like he might be actually angry.

"The girls do it all the time in porn," Yuri protests.

" _They_ are self-lubricating," Beka says. JJ just winks, then, making sure Yuri is watching, he reaches underneath himself and, wincing a little, works an unlubed finger into his hole.

"I meant in the ass," Yuri says absentmindedly, unwittingly enthralled by JJ's brazenness, his willingness to accept the gauntlet Yuri threw down.

"Okay, JJ, everybody knows you're a fool," Beka says. "Use the fucking lube, Jesus; don't stoop to the level of a sixteen-year-old."

"I'm awesome," Yuri says, finally ungluing his eyeballs from JJ's hole, which is puffed out a little and glowing red. "He's a fool for _love_ ," Yuri adds.

"Yura, either get me lubed up or get on your hands and knees, but it's late for JJ and we can't be here all night."

"Maybe I _am_ a fool for love," JJ says, and there's something almost… sincere? about the way he says it, but Yuri doesn't get it, so he lets it go.

Faced with the prospect of not getting his hands on Beka's cock, even for a few minutes, Yuri tries to ignore JJ long enough to lube Beka up.

"Do it gently," Beka says, biting his lip as Yuri begins to smooth the slick substance over Beka; the more soft his hands get on Beka's erection, the more Beka's face screws up, as if it's an almost unbearable pleasure. Huh, so Beka likes a softer touch, Yuri thinks, as he finishes up and then uses the remainder of the lube to grease his hole.

The dildo is shining now, and Yuri wants Beka's cock in his mouth, but—

"When do I get to suck you off?" Yuri asks abruptly. JJ laughs.

"That, I'm definitely glad Otabek's going to be the guinea pig for," he says.

'Why?" Yuri asks suspiciously. He shifts around so that he's on all fours and facing the computer screen, where JJ is wearing his smug camera-ready smile. Figures—he _is_ on camera right now, after all.

"I just don't trust your teeth, kitten," JJ responds archly. "Actually, I'm not sure I'm _ever_ going to trust your teeth near my dick."

"Why, afraid I'll bite you? Afraid you'll _deserve_ it?"

"I deserve only sunshine and roses, kitten. Kittens. And gold medals."

"If you win gold at Worlds," Yuri says, "I'm not fucking you after."

"I'm thrilled to know you intended to fuck me before," JJ replies.

"If you two are done talking about the _future_ , would you like to get on with it in the here and now?" Beka asks, a tad impatiently if Yuri is any judge. "Hell, Yura, twenty minutes ago you couldn't wait to get my clothes off, and now you're just bickering with JJ."

"Aw, do you feel left out, Otabek?" JJ asks. "You have him all to yourself right now. Trust me, I'm jealous."

"You should be," Yuri says. "I get the real thing. All you get is that poor substitute—"

"I _like_ my buttplug, kitten," JJ interrupts. "It's not noisy, and it doesn't insist on being my master."

"I seem to recall that you _liked_ that," Yuri says. He probably would have said more, but Beka has apparently lost patience entirely and his fingers—three of them, he's not fucking around—are quite suddenly breaching Yuri's hole. He groans, head dropping down between his shoulderblades, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and biting on it as he adjusts to the exquisite pressure and burn of penetration.

"That's a good boy, kitten," JJ murmurs, a telltale hitch in his breathing.

"Fuck you," Yuri grits out, raising his head a little. "Oh, no f-fair," he continues, when he sees that JJ has inserted the buttplug and is writhing on it, one hand gripping his cock tightly as the other fiddles with the toy.

"Beka, I want—"

"I know what you want," Beka says in a low voice. "I got you, Yura; trust me, and relax."

Yuri draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and Beka's fingers disappear. Yuri's not worried about that—and he's right; seconds later Beka's guiding both the dildo and his own hot, pulsing cock into Yuri's ass.

"Ah!" Yuri yells, as Beka abandons gentleness and slams them both home. Beka knows by know that Yuri can take it fast and kind of rough. His mouth is suddenly filled with copper and he realizes he's bitten his lip too hard from the pleasure. "JJ, ah," he says, pushing back against Beka, "I wanna see you squeeze your dick so tight it hurts. Abuse it."

"Yura!"

"It's all right," JJ says, "he's just asking me to do what I like. Secretly."

"Do it, JJ—I wanna see it." Yuri tosses his head on Beka's next thrust, but he manages to winch his eyes open to watch JJ.

JJ moans as he rubs his cock, spreading precome from the slit, and then he tightens his hand around it until it's almost purple—he grunts and his hips shift up into the vise-like grip of his fingers.

"God, yeah," Yuri says, licking a droplet of blood from his lip just before it falls and hits the floor. He rocks on his hands and knees as Beka pounds into him as advertised; stuffing him so completely he can't catch his breath, it feels _that_ good.

Beka's fingers are bruisingly strong on Yuri's hips, the thumbs digging into his ass cheeks as Beka continues to slam into him, deep and so sweet. Beka hoists Yuri's ass upwards, pulling him closer to Beka, and the dildo and Beka's dick slide in so far Yuri sees stars. Beka cants his hips up as he drags Yuri backwards, onto the thick girth of the toy and Beka's cock, and it causes them both to rub something in Yuri that makes him lose it completely. He's coincidentally staring into JJ's eyes through the computer screen as he shouts, precome suddenly a steady stream, soaking Beka's shirt.

Beka lets go of him on one side and his hand runs up Yuri's back, under the shirt, rubbing sweat into his skin as he fucks Yuri mercilessly.

"Beka-a—" Yuri gasps, as JJ begins to fuck himself on the buttplug, "what was _that_?"

"That," Beka says breathlessly, "was the sweet spot every guy has and every girl who likes anal wishes she had: your prostate."

"Do it again, Beka. _Again_!" Yuri demands; his body is straining for release now, his muscles bunching in his shoulders as his body rocks from the sensual assault. His balls are so heavy, drawn up to his body, and he's pretty sure that one more stroke against that sweet spot will do him in.

"I wanna-ah-see him come," JJ half-says, half-moans. "Move the tablet computer, Otabek. Please." JJ's nails are grazing his cock in a way that makes Yuri wince; his hand cramming the buttplug into his ass is not gentle. But JJ's face is red, his hair sweaty and plastered to his temples and forehead, and the red stain travels all the way down his chest.

"Fuck yourself as hard as you can stand it," Yuri moans. "Make it _hurt_ , JJ, c'mon."

"If I were there, I'd come on you," JJ swears, but he does as Yuri says; he jams the buttplug in so fiercely that his whole body reacts as if he's been stung; but he _likes_ it, true to form. His mouth is open wide, a lovely oval, lips swollen and cherry-red. His body strains upward, his cock jerks against his hand, and he suddenly screams,

"I'm gonna— oh my God. Yuri."

"Make me come," Yuri demands of Beka; his thrusts speed up a little, and he again adjusts the angle so that the double penetration strokes his sweet spot. Yuri arches, pushing back hard onto Beka's intrusion. " _Fuck_ , yeah," Yuri shouts; perspiration drips from his hair into his eyes, onto the floor, and he has just enough breath left to say, "JJ, crush your balls in your hand. Come!"

JJ lets go of the buttplug, leaving it fixed in his hole, and squishes his balls in his hands; his cock jerks violently and JJ lets go of the base, lets go of his inhibitions, and splashes come all over his chest and belly.

The sight is unbelievably erotic, and between that and Beka hitting just the right spot, Yuri's vision goes unfocused and he shoots fast and hard. It spurts up towards his face, catching Beka's shirt, Yuri's chin, and leaving strings of come dangling from the hem of Beka's shirt and his belly. It drips and pools on the floor as Beka tightens his grasp on Yuri and jacks his hips forward in one violent thrust. Yuri can feel Beka's jizz flood into him, and it makes him shiver; his spent cock twitches feebly with interest. His ass is still clenching and releasing around Beka and the toy as Beka slowly pulls back, slipping out.

"N-noooo," Yuri whines, trying to chase him back, to grab for him with his hands. "Not yet, Beka, no."

"I'm sorry, Yura," Beka says. "It's too much. I'm too sensitive. JJ, did you die?"

Yuri looks at the screen; presumably Beka's looking too. JJ is sprawled back against the bed, covered in white streaks, his hands relaxed on the bedsheets, and even though he just came his brains out, his sweet hole is pussy-red around the buttplug, still inserted.

"I'm ah-alive," JJ manages to get out. "How's my kitten?"

"Still not yours," Yuri says, collapsing onto the floor. He manages to keep his face from planting onto the hardwood by folding his arms and landing on them. Still, it stings. And then Beka's spreading his ass cheeks: his tongue, slowly, exquisitely licking against Yuri's swollen, abused hole, isn't a surprise—and it's welcome. It soothes some of the burn from the almost brutal fucking he just took. And loved.

Beka hums as he tastes Yuri, and it feels incredible.

"Beka," Yuri whimpers, his ass pressing backward, toward Beka. "I need— I can't. I'm exhausted."

One final lick and Beka lowers him the rest of the way to the floor. He says,

"Goodnight, JJ, have sexy dreams," and then he taps the screen to end the call. At which point he wraps his arms around Yuri, rolls him towards him, and kisses his temple.

"I jizzed on your shirt," Yuri mumbles, feeling sleepy.

"I know, Yura," Beka says, running his fingers through Yuri's sweat-damp hair.

"Now we need another shower," Yuri says. But he's too tired to worry too much about the sweat or the come or any of it. He can feel jizz drip out of his ass.

"All right, come on," Beka says, and he lifts Yuri easily. He sets him on his feet temporarily, holding him steady, and lifts the shirt over his head. Yuri wants to beg for it back, but then Beka's laying him on a soft mattress and warm blankets and Yuri's almost gone.

He watches through sleep-slitted eyes as Beka steps out of the elastic harness, and then Beka's climbing into bed next to him. He tugs Yuri into his embrace again, and everything feels safe, secure. Yuri falls asleep.

&~&

**Beka's bedroom, 4:34 a.m.**

"I have to catch my flight home today," Yuri whispers into the soft darkness. Beka's fingers hesitate briefly in their exploration of Yuri's hair, then resume sifting through the strands; Yuri snuggles a little bit into Beka: it feels really good.

"I know," Beka whispers back. "Oh, Yura. Did you have a nice visit?" Beka's other hand settles at the base of Yuri's spine, just above the roundness of his ass.

Yuri shifts in the darkness, trying to pick out Beka's features. They ought to be sleeping, but after the long nap they both indulged in that afternoon, they're lying awake, waiting for the dawn.

Faint moonlight has painted a creamy white sheen to the room, but Beka's lying with his back to the window, and so his face is in shadow. Yuri reaches out, hands searching, finding Beka's jaw, his lips. In response to Yuri's questing fingers, Beka lays soft kisses on his palms.

"Yeah, I did," Yuri says. In the pre-dawn stillness, it feels as if the world is waiting—for him. For _them_. It reminds Yuri of the beginning of a program in competition, when the crowd's cheering fades away and Yuri knows everyone is just… _waiting_. But he doesn't want to feel that way with Beka, as if he's distant and he can't hear or see Beka anymore. 

"Please touch me, Beka," Yuri pleads.

There's no verbal response; Yuri isn't totally surprised. Beka can be very judicious with his words. However, Beka's hand on his back flexes, then he walks his fingers down Yuri's naked ass, smoothing over his buttocks, but not dipping inside. Yuri breathes out a quiet moan, desperate for Beka's touch; he tries to reach behind him, to open his cheeks for Beka's convenience, but Beka shushes him without words and then he gently directs Yuri to roll onto his back with his hands.

"Would you like to try something… different?" Beka asks in a low tone. Yuri feels almost like he's drowning in the grey darkness, in the sensation of Beka's hands trailing over his body in such sensual ways. But Yuri's up for anything.

"What is it?" he asks, moving sinuously against the bedsheets, feeling the decadence of Beka's 1000 thread count sheets against his back and bottom. Beka shifts, repositioning himself so that he's leaning over Yuri, hands on either side of Yuri's face now, knees bracketing Yuri's legs. This setup doesn't leave any room for Yuri to spread his legs, for Beka to fuck his ass.

"I'll show you," Beka whispers, "and if you think it's too weird, we'll stop." Beka ducks his head down, their lips meeting in a kiss of velvet softness. Beka's tongue makes a quick, erotic trip around the shape of Yuri's lips, then Beka lifts his head again. A weak shaft of moonlight caresses Beka's face, limns his lips with a glimmering silver because they're still wet from Yuri's saliva.

"I'll do anything you want," Yuri says, arching his hips up; his body is responding to the sweet touches, the incitement of arousal. Nerves are waking up and becoming almost stingingly sensitive as they wait to be stimulated. "Please, Beka, fuck—"

"Shh, Yura. No. I'm not going to fuck you." Beka skims his palm over the side of Yuri's face, cupping his cheek and then smoothing over his jaw. "I'm going to do something that might be even better."

Disappointed, Yuri still can't help the way he stretches up into the caress.

"Why won't you fuck me?" He's never been one to let it go when he wants something.

Beka's shimmering lips curve. He looks both angelic and devilish at the same time, and Yuri's suddenly desperately intrigued.

"Yura, darling Yura." But Beka doesn't answer his question. In the somnolent darkness, everything feels distant and muted—except for Beka. Beka's like an anchor in a swimming pool of uncertainty, because Yuri's heart is thundering in his chest, the pulse an unignorable presence in his fingertips, the muscle of his entrance, even his belly. Yuri is filled with feelings he doesn't know how to name. Even with Beka, he's never quite felt like this before.

And all of a sudden, Beka's hand is between them, stroking upwards on Yuri's dick, inciting it to swell with blood, to harden under his fingers. Slowly, so slowly, he works Yuri up, flickering little touches that make his cock stir. When Beka fists his cock finally, bringing it all the way to attention, Yuri isn't quite prepared for Beka's thumb to sweep over the head, then return; suddenly Beka's sliding his curled fingers firmly down, bunching the foreskin up in his hand, exposing the head of Yuri's cock—which is pearled with a drop of precome in the moonlight. Yuri watches in fascination as Beka holds the flap of skin down, then with his other hand, he puts his index finger at the slit, right into the fluid there, and lets go of Yuri's shaft with the other.

His foreskin immediately re-covers the swollen crown of his cock, but Beka's finger remains slipped inside. It feels strange—funny, but good. Yuri's hips lift up slightly, his body enjoying this new experience.

"Hold that thought, Yura," Beka murmurs, and then he widens his legs; between them, Yuri can see Beka's own hardness hanging heavy between his legs. He wraps his fingers around Yuri's cock again, holding it in his hand; with the other, he brings the tip of his own dick to kiss the tip of Yuri's. Yuri can feel his brow wrinkle.

"What are you—?" Yuri begins to whisper, but Beka just shakes his head. Yuri watches in absolute rapt attention as Beka once again slips Yuri's foreskin back; with the hand on his own dick, he does the same. This time, when he presses the heads of their cocks more closely together, he releases them and the hoods of their respective cocks envelop each other. Yuri is confused, then he realizes that—as Beka encircles both of their shafts with his hand, squeezing lightly at the heads, and thrusts his hips—Beka is fucking up against his _cock_. _Into_ it, even.

"We can do this," Beka says, just a thread of sound in the dark, "because we're not circumcised. Do you understand?"

Yuri doesn't, not really, but he doesn't want Beka to think him ignorant, so he nods.

Precome bubbles at the slit of their dicks, making them slide messily together; if it weren't for Beka's fist around them, they might have separated. Instead, the foreskins capture them both in place just enough, and then Beka meets Yuri's eyes in the dark. The brown is lost amidst the darkness, but his cheeks and nose are moonlit, a silvery pink—from a blush?—and Yuri can't help himself; he surges up and kisses Beka's nose.

As soon as he's done it, it feels like an odd thing to have done. There's no sexual purpose to kissing his nose, no matter how adorable it had looked. Beka doesn't comment or react like he's weirded out, so Yuri tosses the feeling of uneasiness away.

"Thrust your hips, Yura," Beka whispers, and Yuri follows his lead; their breathing grows heavier, Yuri's heart rate ratchets up even faster, and their cocks continue to fuck into each other, against each other, until precome has soaked both their shafts and Beka's palm. Until Yuri's balls go taut and his cock hardens as much as possible before release.

"B-beka," Yuri whimpers, and his head goes back, digging into the pillow, as his thigh muscles lock up and his mouth opens, breathing raspy and labored. "I n-need—"

But Beka always knows exactly what he needs; a finger dips into the precome drenching them and then slides purposefully down below Yuri's balls, finding his tight, fluttering hole, and plunging inside in a sharp, sudden movement that makes Yuri gasp—just like that, his cock spasms, twitches, and he shoots off.

"That's it, Yura, come for me," Beka murmurs, jacking them once more; Beka's dick swells against Yuri's and pretty soon his friend is moaning, body rocking as he creams them both.

Panting heavily, Beka lowers his head and captures Yuri's lips again in a soul-searing kiss. Yuri surrenders to it fully, savoring Beka's mouth, the silken feel of his lips; he cups Beka's jaw and revels even in the stubble there.

Something is happening to Yuri; in his chest, something aches and tightens, a knot of sensation he doesn't know how to unravel. For the first time it really settles into him, bone-deep knowledge, that he's fucking—and quite willingly, too—another boy.

Not just another boy. His best friend. Which must be why his chest pains him: because he could screw up their friendship this way. He knows it's not unusual for friends—generally male and female, but he doesn't see why it doesn't apply to him too—to share sexual experiences, for it to mean nothing beyond that.

But then why does Yuri feel so strange? So conflicted about the whole thing?

As Beka finishes nursing him through his orgasm, Yuri watches Beka's face, the kiss forgotten, their lips separated again, and he wonders at this awful pinch in the vicinity of his heart.

"Beka?" he says, but he knows all at once it's nothing more than a puff of air, a silent movement of his lips. Beka doesn't hear; he gently releases Yuri's spent, softening dick, and shifts over, lying on his side again, thigh pressed to Yuri's.

"It's almost time to get you ready for the airport," Beka says, but there's something else there, like pain, in his voice. Outside, the sky is lightening, the moon shadowing as it begins to disappear into the daylight.

"What's the matter, Beka?" Yuri asks, reaching out to trace Beka's eyebrow, down the line of his jaw.

"It's nothing, Yura," Beka replies. Some of the distant quiet is receding; birds are chirping, the world is waking up. Yuri feels like _he's_ waking up to something, too, but he doesn't know exactly _what_. "I'll just miss being able to hold you, that's all."

"And fuck me?" Yuri asks, still confused by the way his feelings are getting all tangled into knots that have thorns that prick and prick at him. God. What _is_ this? Why doesn't he understand? Who can he _ask_? The answer comes to him—Viktor—but he tries to shake it out of his head. Viktor is a lost cause; he only has eyes for the katsudon.

"Of course," Beka says, a smile lighting up his face. "Of course, that too, Yura," he repeats, and Yuri's never seen him smile like this. That pinch in his heart begins to feel like a crab's pincer closing over the muscle.

"I'll miss you too," he declares, "but I have to go home and pacify Yakov and Lilia."

"Why?" Beka asks, brow furrowing.

"Oh, because I didn't tell them I was leaving," Yuri says carelessly. Beka's face goes suddenly red, scrunching up.

"Yura! You didn't _tell_ them? Are you mad?" Beka's obviously quite upset by this. "I expected you to get their permission, Yura!"

Yuri shrugs as best he can lying down on a bed.

"It's no big deal," he says, "I don't need them. I can handle myself."

Beka puts his palm over his face, and Yuri thinks he's going to start laughing. But Beka's eyes are very serious when he scrubs his hand down his face.

"I keep forgetting you're a headstrong teenager," Beka says ruefully. " _Next_ time, Yura, I expect you to let them know what you're doing."

"I didn't tell them about Japan either," Yuri reminds Beka. "And I doubt you want me to tell them _everything_ I've been doing."

Beka winces a little at the implication of that, but he doesn't dignify it with a response.

"Yeah, I know; you told me," Beka says, referring to the Japan fiasco. He kisses Yuri quickly on the lips. "Gotta clean up, it's time to get out of bed. I'll bring you to the airport. Make sure you practice _hard_ , Yura, because I'm going to make it _very_ difficult on you at Worlds. Don't expect to win the gold handily, you got me?"

"I got you," Yuri says. He lifts a hand, runs it over Beka's hair. "Let's get me ready to go home, then."


	5. Chapter 5

**Yuri's bedroom, Lilia's house, St. Petersburg | grounded**

"You are the only person I'm allowed to call, Vitya!" Yuri wails, holding the FaceTime close to his face. Viktor's probably seeing only a bit of eye and one nostril at this point, but Yuri is too upset to care.

"Calm down, Yurio," Viktor says, though the way he acts sometimes, he should be the _last_ person allowed to tell Yuri to calm down. "Start from the beginning. What happened?"

"We-ell, Yakov wasn't going to do anything—you know how he is, all bark and no bite. But Lilia—! She insisted I be grounded, and because it's _her_ house—" Yuri makes her sound like a witch, because how dare she keep him from Beka. From JJ even!

"You did run off to Almaty without telling anyone. Or letting anyone know where you were." Viktor sounds reasonable. Yuri _hates_ when Viktor sounds reasonable. Hell, he hates _Viktor_ in this moment.

"I told _you_ , didn't I? It's not _my_ fault you kept it a secret."

"But I didn't," Viktor says in surprise. "As soon as I knew where you were, I told Yakov. You're still grounded because you _did_ it, Yurio. At sixteen you ought to have learned some personal responsibility by now."

"Don't start," Yuri warns. "I don't need any more lectures. I… I need help with something." This is the reason the phone is an inch away from his nose: because he knows he's flushing the color of a sunset and he doesn't want Viktor to see. He might laugh. He probably would—he seems to delight in tormenting Yuri.

"Okay, tell me," Viktor says. Now he sounds like an old fart, ready to impart some nauseating wisdom. Yuri wishes he was allowed to call anyone else, but no, he's using Yakov's phone so they can monitor his calls. His has been confiscated. He just hopes Lilia doesn't turn it on—she'll get the surprise of her life: JJ's larger than life dick.

Since Viktor has been engaged to Katsudon, he's impossible, acting like a sober old adult instead of the shiftless, reckless sometimes-drunken older brother he'd behaved like before. Yuri misses that Viktor—his Vitya. But he'll never tell anyone that. Especially Viktor.

"I had… have. Uh." Yuri is beginning to wonder if he can die from an overdose of blood to the face. Probably not. Unfortunately, because that would be easier than having this conversation.

"Take your time, Yurio. Yuuri uses the shower forever. I have plenty of time."

Ugh.

"I had a weird feeling when I was with Beka," he blurts, then covers his mouth.

"Was it like a burning sensation when you pee?" Viktor asks, all concern. Jesus.

"No, no, an emotional one." Yuri _is_ definitely, certainly, absolutely going to fucking _die_. "You remember I said Beka's my only friend?"

"Yes," says Viktor, "and I owe you an apology. I was half-asleep, so I didn't tell you something I should have: of course that's not true! Yuuri—"

"—not the piggy—"

"—don't call him that, and he likes you very much, and so do I, of course! Plus JJ seems very fond of you."

"Don't mention JJ," Yuri says darkly. JJ is not a subject he wants to discuss with Viktor. Ever. Viktor would probably tell him to be _friends_ with JJ or something stupid like that. Like they could ever be friends! Fuck-buddies, yes. That might be acceptable even in the long-term—but they could never rub along together as actual _friends_. The only rubbing Yuri wants to do with JJ is their dicks, together. Or Yuri's dick in JJ's ass. Hell, even JJ's dick in Yuri's ass again. It was pretty awesome—lived up to the hype of JJ's massive ego.

"I don't see why, JJ could use a friend too," Viktor posits, and Yuri almost smashes the phone—remembering at the last second that it belongs to Yakov and is also his only contact with the world outside Lilia's house—and his home rink—for the time being.

" _Anyway_ ," Yuri says, trying to reel them back into the topic at hand, "I came to the conclusion that Beka and I were friends who liked fucking each other. But in Almaty something… happened. Vitya. I think I have a-a crush. And Beka said we were lovers." Yuri hides his face completely now.

"I'd say so," Viktor says unhelpfully. "The way you moon about after him, why it reminds me of me and—"

" _Don't you dare say it_ ," Yuri snarls. "And I don't _moon_."

"Yurio… yes, you do. Look in a mirror sometime when he walks into the room. You're right. You don't just moon—you look at him like he _hung_ the moon."

"Oh my God," Yuri says in despair. "I have _feelings_ for Beka. You can't tell him. Ever, Viktor. He can't ever know. It would ruin our friendship forever and he's still my only friend!"

Viktor sighs, a desolate, overdramatic sound.

"Yurio, did it never occur to you that maybe Beka reciprocates those feelings?"

"But how _could_ he?" Yuri asks in desperation. "I'm not— No one— Vitya, no one even _likes_ me." He's so busy wallowing in his unwelcome feelings, he's not really processing what Viktor is saying.

"It's true that you're an incorrigible brat," Viktor says, "but you're not without your own appeal. I've liked you for a long time."

"You never tried to fuck me," Yuri says. This makes perfect sense to him, but apparently not to Viktor.

"Liking you as a person does not equate to wanting to fuck you! Yuri, where did you even _get_ that idea?"

"I dunno." Yuri picks a loose thread on his shirt. He's pretty sure that, from a picture he got from Beka while on the plane, that Beka still hasn't washed the shirt that Yuri wore—and jizzed all over. Yuri wonders if Beka sniffs it to get off. But the shirt had been balled up in his bed, by his pillow—almost as if he were sleeping with it. Whatever the fuck _that_ meant. Even worse was that when he got back to St. Petersburg, there had been a package waiting. A shirt: from JJ, a piece from his clothing line used for practices. Yuri had thrown the note away unread. But he kept the shirt—and he's not sure why.

"Well— Oh! Yuuri is out of the shower. Here, say hello—"

"No thank you!" Yuri yells, and smacks his hand down on the phone hard, hanging up.

Dammit. Now what is he supposed to do? He has no one to talk to and he's awfully bored.

But then his gaze lands on the box he's hiding his dildo in, and he gets an idea. Lilia won't let him talk to Beka, right? But she doesn't know about the dildo, and she may have told him not to masturbate, but… she grounded him, he doesn't have anything better to do, and it would serve her right.

In a flash, Yuri's off the bed and over to the box. Might as well make the most of being confined to his room.

&~&

**Room 723, Official Hotel for Worlds, Shanghai, China | March 26, 2015**

"I have to stay with Vitya? No!" Yuri protests. Viktor, for his part, does not look happy about it either. Possibly because he was given the order from Yakov that he had to _keep an eye_ on Yuri, and that Viktor would therefore share a hotel room with Yuri—and the katsudon would have to room by himself. Viktor is definitely annoyed that he can't share with his lover and get all gooey and gross over him. Yuri _is_ glad about that—at least he doesn't have to watch them together.

"You will do as you're told," Lilia says sternly. "And for goodness sake, try to limber up before the competition starts. Your last few practices were sloppy and you moved like a ballerina, all right, but like the wooden Nutcracker!"

"I hate you," Yuri grumbles. Lilia is totally unfazed by this.

"Just win the gold, Yura. Then maybe you won't be grounded when we get back to St. Petersburg. All right, Vitya, I'll leave him to you." Lilia exits the room and Yuri throws himself across the nearest bed. Beka is so close! Even JJ—whose juicy ass he still wants to get a piece of. And he can't even see them, because he's stuck with Viktor.

It's true that he wouldn't jeopardize his chance at a gold medal by fucking them _during_ the competition, but after…

Yuri's found that orgasm loosens him up, and so he likes to achieve at least one before competitions now. He's considered telling the katsudon to try it, because it helps with nerves. But then he imagines how mortifying a conversation like that might be, and changes his mind.

"Yurio," Viktor says, interrupting his thoughts. "I've brought you a gift. And, you know, I think I'll go have breakfast with Yuuri before the short program this morning. I, uh, don't know when I'll be back. Don't open it until I leave." Viktor looks shifty. "Just—stay by yourself, okay?"

"You'll leave me alone for awhile if I promise not to have an orgy, basically?” Yuri asks, and Viktor goes sakura blossom pink.

"Yes, Yurio. Don't abuse my trust."

"I won't!" Yuri grins up at him, and Viktor gives him a quick hug before sneaking—there's no other word for it—out of the hotel room.

The box is sitting by Yuri's chosen bed, wrapped in plain brown paper. He shreds the paper and stares at the box in his hands.

Anal beads. Viktor is becoming his dealer for sex toys—and Yuri can absolutely be down with that.

He unpackages them and examines them: dark grey, with beads that start out fairly thick and only get bigger towards the base of the toy. _And_ they vibrate. Yuri is almost too excited to breathe. There's a little bag next to the box he just ripped open, and inside is a tube of specifically anal lubricant.

Well, now he can't wait to get started. He grabs the Do Not Disturb sign, hangs it on the outside of the door handle—so much more official than a sock—and then locks the flip latch. Viktor will just have to wait on him if he comes back early.

Checking the clock, Yuri sees that there are two hours until the competition begins. He strips out of his clothes hurriedly, then grabs the anal beads and the lube and gets on his bed. He spreads his legs and sets the toy down for the time being; quickly, he strokes up and down his cock, causing it to stiffen and rise.

Next, he snatches his phone off the bedside table—thankfully, Lilia has given it back for the duration of the competition—and, grateful to Phichit for the selfie stick he'd gifted Yuri for his birthday, he sets it to record. Setup complete, he coats the anal beads with a ton of lube and then, his fingers slippery with lube, he opens up his ass around four fingers.

He doesn't know when it started, but he's gotten to love anal more than he ever could have imagined. So he moves his fingers in and out a bit, stretching himself and prepping himself. Because Yuri likes to take a lot, he doesn't really do all that much prep; just the four fingers and a deep breath to relax—then he begins to insert the toy, bead by bead, probably faster than he should, but it feels _amazing_ ; there's no pain, only a delightful pressure.

The last bead—the biggest—pops into place inside his hole, and Yuri bites his lip, trying hard not to moan as loudly as the sensation makes him want to. Once his body is gripping them all tightly, he curls a hand around his dick and begins to pump it up and down. With his other hand, he turns on the vibration, and immediately gasps, his hips rolling and his inner walls pulsing as they get used to this new feeling.

His cock begins to leak copiously, and Yuri lets out a breathy moan as his fingers grow even more slicked up. Continuing to work over his cock, he begins to play with the beads; tugging them gently in and out, though not all the way, and turning the toy so that the vibrations start to drive him crazy.

It is soon apparent that Yuri isn't going to need very much time: between the exciting, wonderful vibrations in his ass, and the steel-spike hardness of his cock, he's on the verge of orgasm already. Yuri, once again from his education in Russian porn, knows how to use the beads just right—his cock is as hard as it'll ever get, his balls are squeezed against his body, and as Yuri begins to go over, various body parts throbbing, cock twitching, he begins to tug the beads out.

As his body releases them, reluctantly, they draw him upwards on an incline of pleasure he's never before conceived of. His cock throbs almost painfully, shooting hard and fast, the beads vibrate against the outer muscle of his hole, and Yuri abandons his cock to bite his fist to keep from screaming as his vision literally whites out as the last bead slips free.

When he can open his eyes again, he's drenched in sweat and come and can barely move—but he's going to need a shower before Viktor comes back. He has just enough energy to stop the phone from recording and play it back. It's jumpy, but mostly clear, and God, but he looks sexy like that.

Opening the sharing app, he sends the video to Beka. And then, even though he's not sure why he does it, he shares it with JJ too.

Trying to get up to take a shower, he drifts off instead. Not for long; but after about twenty minutes Yuri drags himself into the shower.

Maybe Viktor's not such a stick-in-the-mud after all.

&~&

**Room 723, Official Worlds Hotel, 12:06 a.m., March 27**

Yuri spends half the night waiting for Viktor to fall asleep—as soon as his jailor is out, Yuri's going to creep out and hope to be back before Viktor wakes up in the morning.

So he lies in bed, faking the most deep, even breathing he can, eyes closed in what he hopes appears natural; his stomach is flip-flopping from nerves, and his underarms—freshly shaved—are damp. He did them himself this time, but he got a boner while shaving thinking about Beka doing it for him in Almaty.

Just when Yuri's about to get up, sure that Viktor's passed out, he hears the softest of movements from the other bed. A creak, then a slight breath, then an almost soundless footfall.

Yuri wants to laugh: as the door opens, then closes, he realizes that while he was lying in bed pretending to be asleep, Viktor was doing the same thing. Yuri suspects that Viktor has just sneaked out to see Yuuri.

Well, good. Yuri himself can now sneak out without worrying about Viktor. The best part is that, even if Viktor catches Yuri, he won't be able to tell Yakov about it because he would be incriminating himself for not supervising Yuri like he was supposed to be.

Looking down at his pajamas, Yuri shrugs. He's got a black v-neck t-shirt on and leopard print pants. The t-shirt exposes his belly—which is a key selling point for it, particularly tonight—and the pants only fall to mid-calf. He thinks he looks cute. Hopefully cute enough to get Beka hot and bothered.

"See ya, Vitya," Yuri says, and grabs the extra keycard off the table between the beds. He pockets his phone and tiptoes out of the room.

&~&

**Room 726, Official Worlds Hotel, 12:15 a.m. | JJ's hotel room**

"Hurry up and come in, kitten," JJ says, grabbing Yuri's bare arm and tugging him into the room. He looks quickly back and forth down the hallway, and then flips the latch on the inside of the door.

"Where's Beka?" Yuri asks immediately. They agreed to meet in JJ's room because it was closest to the one Yuri would be sharing with Viktor, but Yuri wants to be absolutely certain that JJ isn't up to any tricks.

"The bathroom," JJ says, appearing vaguely confused. "He wanted to wash his face."

"Then I wanna wash mine," Yuri announces. JJ steps over to him, and loosely traps Yuri in his arms.

"Be nice, kitten. I haven't seen you in a long time. Haven't you got any sweetness for me?"

"As if," Yuri retorts. "If you knew me at all you'd know I'm not _sweet_." He tries to disentangle himself from JJ's embrace, but JJ's deceptively strong, and even though he's not exactly crushing Yuri to his chest or anything, he's capable of holding Yuri in place.

"A kiss," JJ says, running his fingertip along the arch of Yuri's eyebrow. He brushes Yuri's hair back, out of his eyes. "That's the price of admission, kitten. One kiss, and you can go chase after your boyfriend."

"He's my _lover_ , not my boyfriend," Yuri corrects. JJ actually picks Yuri up and whirls him around.

"Kitten, my darling, if he's your lover, then you've progressed _beyond_ boyfriends, I hate to break it to you. Where's my kiss?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," Yuri insists. "That implies I have a romantic connection. I don't do _romance_ , I'm not a fucking _girl_." He tries to wrangle his arms out of JJ's hold, but can't; surrendering with poor grace, he closes his eyes and tips his head back. JJ's much taller, and if he wants to kiss Yuri, he's going to have to do all the work himself.

"Oh, kitten, you're so adorably bad-tempered," JJ says, and then his lips are covering Yuri's. JJ doesn't kiss like Beka, soft and reverent. No, he kisses like he skates: with almost _too much_ confidence. He seeks entrance to Yuri's mouth, and when Yuri lets him in, JJ makes himself at home there.

His tongue trails along Yuri's teeth, sweeps against his cheeks, and teases at Yuri's tongue. Yuri's still kind of cranky at having to kiss JJ to see Beka, so he's passive at first, but soon enough JJ's technique is overpowering his reserve, and he sighs into JJ's mouth, twining his tongue around JJ's as they mix and match between each others' mouths.

Yuri might have forgotten everything except the commanding press of JJ's lips and the hard-on in his pajama pants if he hadn't heard, somewhat distantly,

"You two seem to be getting along, for once."

Beka.

Yuri pries himself away from JJ.

"He demanded I—"

"It's all right, Yura. I always wanted you to get along, remember?" Beka's beautiful face is glowing pink from the scrubbing, and he's wearing nothing but loose pajama pants with a drawstring—currently cinched closed. Yuri wants to pull the tie, loosen it, open his pants like a present and delve into them to find the sweet inside: Beka's cock.

"I wanna suck you off," Yuri says to Beka. "Please?"

JJ comes up behind him and encloses him in an embrace again, placing his folded hands over Yuri's bare belly. It tickles—and it's very close to the hard-on he's sporting, so it also makes his dick pulse a little with want.

"Isn't the kitten adorable?" JJ asks, and Yuri bares his teeth, forgetting for a moment that JJ can't see his expression, because he's facing Beka. "I loved your little video, kitten-cakes," JJ murmurs into his ear.

"Dear God," bursts out of Yuri, "don't you _ever_ call me that again, JJ. Or I'll call you… something worse." Yuri can't think of a good insult, not when JJ's hands are so close to his dick, and his breath is so hot against his ear. It should be gross, but every time JJ breathes, Yuri feels a little tingle run through him.

"So inventive," JJ remarks, then nibbles lightly at the tip of Yuri's ear. He unfolds his hands and his fingers trace Yuri's happy trail—the hair fine and so blond it's almost invisible—down to just millimeters away from Yuri's cock, curving towards his belly.

"Beka." Yuri reaches for him. "Come here. Kiss me."

"So tender with your boyfriend," JJ whispers, licking the shell of Yuri's ear and then blowing on it gently. Yuri's entire body shivers, head to foot. JJ grins against his ear. "So pleasant. No scratching or clawing at Otabek, eh, kitten?"

Yuri inhales and holds the breath for a count of ten. He wants Beka to kiss him, and he wants to ignore fucking JJ. So he continues to beckon his friend forward.

Beka's so beautiful. Yuri doesn't know how he didn't notice it before; he'd thought he was hot from the beginning, but now… something's changed. Beka looks different. Maybe he's using some kind of skin care product—Yuri doesn't know and he doesn't _really_ care, as long as—

Beka's arms surround him, palms probably on JJ's back, and Beka dips his head down and obeys Yuri, distracting him from JJ and everything else by the way his lips move against Yuri's, the way his tongue dances in Yuri's mouth, a pretty meeting between them as Yuri answers back, his own tongue thrilling to the touch of Beka's.

All too soon, it's over, Beka lifting his head, deep brown eyes focused entirely on Yuri's green ones. Yuri can't catch his breath; their gazes are locked, and for a split second, Yuri forgets entirely about his boner, about JJ, about _everything_ except how gorgeous Beka looks: kiss-wrecked, his lips shining, the sweet roundness of his cheeks dusted pink, the way his hair is mussed from where Yuri must have raked his hands through it.

JJ has to break the moment, though, like snapping a strand of candy floss:

"This isat's pretty hot, but I'm feeling a little left out between all these lovey-dovey feelings."

"Ugh," Yuri says, sticking his tongue out. "Just because I love _kissing_ Beka does not make me all gooey. Geck."

"Yura…" Beka says, and even his voice is lower, more husky, after that kiss. It's true that every time he kisses Beka, it feels like his entire world needs revision, that nothing makes sense anymore. But that's just lust, right? Yuri's too young to be in love… and he's an Ice Tiger. He feels nothing for anyone. Excepting his grandpa, which taught him the meaning of agape, Yuri is more of an eros type of guy.

Blinking, as if suddenly coming out of a dream, Yuri remembers where he is, that he's just kissed Beka for another world-shaking time, and that Beka's talking to him.

"Huh?" he says, reaching up to rub his eye. "Beka?"

"It's nothing," Beka says. "Just that kissing you is… amazing."

"It is a fucking treat," JJ agrees, "but you're being a coward, Otabek. Why don't you tell him how you really feel?"

"Yuri's not ready," Beka says, and now his brown eyes are fixed above Yuri's head, presumably meeting JJ's deep blue ones. "Don't fuck it up, JJ."

Yuri can feel JJ shrug. He balances his chin on the top of Yuri's head, prompting Yuri to want to shake him off.

"Fine," JJ says, sounding all devil-may-care. "I won't say anything. But man, you two are something else. You should've seen your faces when you were fucking Yuri in Almaty, Otabek."

"How do you really feel, Beka? What are you keeping from me?" Yuri has a terrible thought. For all the spicy sweetness of their kiss, maybe Beka's finally had enough of hanging around with Yuri. "Beka… are we not friends anymore? Am I gonna be stuck hanging around with JJ just so I don't die of boredom?"

"Gods, no, Yura. Nothing like that. JJ's just confused." Beka's eyes shift away from Yuri.

"JJ?" Yuri shifts in his arms, and JJ drops a kiss on the top of his head.

"Oh, kitten," JJ says, squeezing Yuri's stomach a little. Yuri's reminded all of a sudden of his erection when JJ's all-too-clever fingers twist around the head of Yuri's cock and Yuri's body tenses.

"I don't like it to hurt," Yuri protests. "JJ."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, kitten." JJ's fingers gentle on him, and Beka's eyes are strangely intense—almost as if he doesn't mind JJ touching his lover like a—like a lover himself.

Yuri has an odd thought: why isn't Beka jealous? And then on the heels of that one: why isn't Yuri as upset as he should be about the fact that JJ's intruding on their sexual exploration?

When did it start to feel weird to have three of them in this… Yuri doesn't even know what to call it. It's not a _relationship_ , definitely not. But then what? He wants to ask Beka—but he doesn't want to expose his ignorance, so he just clenches his teeth to keep the questions at bay.

"Mmm, what have we here?" JJ says suddenly, his hand flat over Yuri's navel. Beka, curious, lets go of the two of them and steps back, eyes drawn to JJ's hand—and the little barbell between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yura… did _you_...?" Beka sounds about equal parts appalled and amazed. And, hopefully, more than a little turned on.

"Do you like it?" Yuri asks coyly, twisting out of JJ's hold so that the belly piercing is plainly visible. "I did it myself."

"Yura, what made you decide…" Beka trails off, as if he doesn't really know what he's asking.

"Porn," Yuri says. But Beka is definitely not following, so he adds, "Well, I was watching porn, and this one boy had a pierced belly button and he really seemed to enjoy having it played with. Besides, Viktor had one for awhile. Wait, he told me not to ever tell anyone that. I think he's afraid the katsudon would not approve. Oops."

"Hmm," JJ says, voice dark like chocolate. "Viktor Nikiforov? Kinky. I wish I'd known that about him before. I would've tried to tap that."

"I think he ditched it the same time he cut his hair," Yuri explains. Beka's got a contemplative look on his face.

"Yura… did you ever…" Beka screws his face up. "Tell me you didn't mess around with Viktor."

He ought to categorically deny it, but there's the slightest bit of truth to that, if you squint.

"Not… exactly." Yuri flushes; his face suddenly feels like the inside of a furnace. "I always _liked_ Viktor," he says. "But I didn't understand back then what it meant to… well, you know. Beka, you helped me straighten some things out for myself."

"Straighten?" JJ raises an eyebrow. Beka pokes him in the shoulder.

"Shut up, JJ, don't confuse him."

"Someone should tell him, Otabek," JJ says. "You— Are you seriously going to wait and see if he figures it out for himself?"

" _Yes_ ," Beka says urgently. "I don't wanna color his perception."

It's Yuri's turn to poke someone—in his case, Beka.

"Why do you both keep talking about me like I'm not here? I'm sixteen—not a _baby_."

"Kitten, darling, get back to me when you start shaving." JJ comes around to stand next to Beka, regarding Yuri with narrowed eyes, one hand at his chin. "Unless you already have. One way to find out! Another kiss."

JJ grabs Yuri and smacks one on his lips, in the most unsexy way possible. When he releases Yuri, he's grinning his most obnoxious grin.

"Nope, that is one bald pussy," he says with relish, and Yuri, annoyed and overwhelmed by the sheer _JJ-ness_ of it all, kicks him in the shin.

"What would _you_ know about that?" he throws back. "It's not like you've ever been close to one before."

"Are you _sure_ about that, kitten?" JJ asks, suddenly sounding very, very sexy. Yuri tries to surreptitiously cross one leg over the other to hide the way his dick responds to JJ's altered tone. But JJ flicks his glance down, then back to Yuri's face, with a slow wink accompanying his perusal.

"Don't mess with him, JJ," Beka says into the fraught silence.

"I don't need you to stand up for me," Yuri says with a frown. Beka rolls his shoulders and then puts his palms up as if pacifying Yuri.

"Yura, sometimes you need to learn to be gracious."

"Whatever the fuck that means," Yuri says, sticking out his tongue. "I _can_ take care of myself. I've been bringing home money to take care of myself and Grandpa for years now."

"No one said you _couldn't_ , Yura, but you shouldn't always _have_ to." Beka's voice is soft, almost… wounded?

"Listen to your boyfriend," JJ says, lest Yuri be allowed to forget that he's there. Sometimes he wishes he could.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Yuri begins to shout, catching himself just in time as he remembers that it's past midnight in a hotel.

"I think the lady doth protest too much," JJ murmurs. This time, when he uses a finger to tip Yuri's chin up and lowers his head, Yuri bites his lower lip when JJ kisses him.

JJ's close enough to Yuri, though, that he can feel the tremble that runs through him; out of curiosity he palms JJ's dick through his clothes, somehow unsurprised by the spurt of precome that dampens his hand.

Not only that, but JJ moans when Yuri nibbles even harder—right up until blood oozes into his mouth. Gross.

It's pretty clear that JJ wants the kiss to continue, even in such an abusive fashion, but Yuri turns his head and spits the blood out of his mouth.

"The carpet! Yura, we don't live here," Beka says.

"I'm sorry, Beka," Yuri says, chastened. "It wasn't on purpose." _Well, not entirely_ , he amends silently.

"The kitty cat bites," JJ says in wonder. " _So_ delicious, kitten."

"You like the taste of your own blood?" Yuri asks, confused. Beka ruffles his hair.

"That's not what he meant," Beka says, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "If I kiss you, Yura, are you going to bite _me_?"

"Of course not; JJ's just an asshole," Yuri says. "I like it when you kiss me, Beka."

"I feel so special," JJ says, and Yuri can't tell if he's being ironic. "I just love that you save all your viciousness for me, kitten."

"That's all I save for you," Yuri retorts. "I only like you for your massive cock, JJ."

"Ah, but you _do_ like me. I'm flattered." JJ preens, and Yuri wants to punch him in his smug—and still lightly bleeding—mouth.

"God, Yura," Beka says, when he catches a glimpse of JJ's bloody lip. "You really _can_ be vicious. C'mere, JJ," he says, and then suddenly, without any sort of warning or expectation, Beka's mouth is covering JJ's briefly; when he moves back a fraction, it's not over: he pokes his tongue out and licks at JJ's injury.

Yuri's cock likes this exactly as much as his brain rebels against it. He's suddenly tempted to wait till Beka's asleep and then write _mine_ on his forehead in permanent marker.

Which reminds him…

"JJ? Did you seriously tattoo a tiger cub above your dick?"

"No," JJ says, when he can breathe again. Yuri relaxes, until: "It's a _kitten_ , darling."

"I'm nobody's darling," Yuri spits out furiously. JJ just smiles, the insufferable idiot.

"No," he says, musing, "I don't suppose anyone would make that mistake. You're right. Never."

"Are you mocking me?" Yuri asks suspiciously. JJ looks entirely too angelic for Yuri's liking.

"Not at all, _darling_ ," JJ replies. He winks at Yuri for the second time in as many minutes. Now Yuri kind of wants to poke his eyes out.

With his dick.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone where he learned about _that_.

"JJ's being a dick," Beka says quietly. "You can be anybody's darling, if you like."

Yuri thinks there might be more to what Beka's saying than he's actually saying, but he isn't sure what.

"Why would I _want_ to?" he asks, feeling anger overtake arousal. "I just came here to have a good time, and you're both _picking_ on me."

"Don't whine," JJ scolds. "And we have hours. Are you afraid you don't have the stamina, kitten?"

"Pah, I have plenty of stamina," Yuri scoffs. "I want… I want your dicks."

"One thing at a time, Yura," Beka says, counseling patience. "I thought you wanted to learn how to give a blowjob?"

"Totally on you," JJ says, pausing to tweak Yuri's belly button ring before walking over to the bed and lounging on it casually. For the first time Yuri realizes that JJ is wearing nothing but a tiger print thong. "I like pain, but I also like my dick right where it is."

"I'm not an animal!" Yuri says indignantly. "It's not like I'm going to disfigure you, fuck."

"It's fine. Yura, don't worry about JJ. I'm not afraid of you."

"Good." Yuri eyes JJ mistrustfully. "I don't know what your problem is, JJ."

"You just bit me five minutes ago," JJ points out. Yuri narrows his eyes at him; he answered the door wearing next to nothing, and—

"Did you get _another_ new tattoo?" he asks, even as Beka begins to massage his shoulders.

"The maple leaf?" JJ asks, flexing his bicep. "No, kitten. Maybe you just weren't paying attention?" JJ stands up again, turning around and bending over, rummaging through his luggage. Yuri finds himself staring at JJ's lower back, and the intricate swirls and flourishes that make up a tattoo of his initials.

"Oh my God," Yuri bursts out, "you have a _tramp stamp_." He's kind of awed by this. "How did I not know this before?"

"You're too busy only having eyes for Otabek, kitten," JJ says, triumphantly holding up—

"Is that _your_ buttplug?" Yuri asks, shocked all over again. JJ laughs and wiggles it around a little.

"For you, kitten. Yes, it's mine, but I like to _share_ my toys."

JJ is definitely insinuating something here.

"It seems kinda… small…" Yuri says uncertainly. "Can't take much, can you, JJ?"

"No need to be nasty, kitten," JJ reminds him. "You'll be fine with this. You don't have to set records for what you can tolerate every time we do this."

"You want me to— Now?" Yuri asks, peeking over his shoulder at Beka. "You two planned something again, didn't you?"

"Yes, we did," JJ says, and he brings over the buttplug, placing it into Beka's hands as he wraps an arm around him and lowers his mouth to Beka's.

Beka doesn't resist; he doesn't exactly melt into it or anything, but Yuri can see him respond: his tongue meets JJ's, and his hips press forward a little.

Yuri feels oddly bereft, as of he's been abandoned. So he busies himself with stripping out of his clothes. He watches them make out the whole time he's divesting himself of his pants, confused by his feelings.

On the one hand, he's jealous. He doesn't want JJ to kiss Beka. _He_ wants to be the only one to kiss Beka. But on the other hand, his cock doesn't discriminate. It's hot and hard and there's a drumbeat in the blood filling it up.

His tiny, furled closed hole flexes with his arousal, eager and hungry for something to fill it. So Yuri picks up the strawberry lube on the bedside table and pours it liberally over JJ's buttplug, then leans back on one arm, ass partway in the air, and works it in. At first his body resists, but he gets the very tip of the toy inside and breathes deeply to relax; his hole opens around it and the wider section slots into place, leaving only the flared base on the outside of his body.

Cock twitching, Yuri lets his ass settle down onto the plush carpet, trying not to think about dripping strawberry lube onto it as he watches Beka take firm control of the back of JJ's neck, and with it, the kiss. Suddenly, despite the fact that JJ is much taller, he's submitting to Beka's touches, his direction.

"I want to learn to suck you off now, Beka," Yuri says into the noisy silence. They're not speaking, but their mouths make wet sounds as they play over each other. Beka squeezes the nape of JJ's neck, then pulls away.

"Okay, Yura," he says, "I'll tell you what to do, okay?"

JJ turns 'round, and his face is gorgeous tinged rosy, his lips swollen and shiny with Beka's spit. He looks wrecked, and Yuri can sympathize; that's about par for the course how he feels after kissing Beka too.

"Maybe you can learn to be as good as it as Otabek is," JJ says faintly. He looks like Beka fairly rocked his world. Again, Yuri knows the feeling. "Do you know how to give a handjob, Yuri-chan?"

"I can figure it out," Yuri says confidently. Beka stalks over like a tiger on the prowl, and Yuri feels his body thrill to the danger Beka appears to present.

"Lean back against the side of the bed," Beka instructs, and Yuri moves into the position Beka's indicated. With Beka standing on one side of him, and JJ on the other, Yuri feels like the meat in a sandwich. It's oddly freeing, that feeling, rather than confining.

Yuri finally gets to untie Beka's drawstring; he barely has to touch the pajama pants before they cascade down Beka's slim hips and pool on the floor. Beka's cock is flushed and pretty, and Yuri opens his mouth wide—he hopes it will fit, before Beka says,

"Start slow, Yura. Lick it first. However you like, but make sure, when you finally take it in your mouth, to sheathe your teeth with your lips." Beka steps out of his pajama pants and settles his legs slightly spread apart, one hand gripping the base of his shaft—holding it straight out for Yuri to mess with.

"Use your hands on me," JJ says, and Yuri turns his head; he orients himself, then curves his hand around JJ's equally flushed, just as hard and enthralling, dick and gives it a careful stroke. "You can be rougher on me than that," JJ says on an exhaled breath.

Yuri can feel the fullness of the buttplug in his ass; he's just starting to tighten his hand around JJ when the cocky bastard slips something over Yuri's dick and down to the base, where it pinches slightly, causing some of the orgasmic pleasure to recede.

"You fucker—" Yuri snarls, but suddenly there's a hand in his hair, pulling. Not quite enough to hurt, but not gently, either.

"It was my idea too, Yura," Beka says, as if soothing a wounded animal. "This is for us—and for you, but not in the same way. Don't worry—"

"—we'll get you off plenty later," JJ finishes, and Yuri wonders when they started thinking on the same wavelength to be able to finish each other's sentences.

"You'd better," Yuri says, smoldering.

"Ooh, that's not a happy face," JJ says, stroking one thumb down Yuri's cheek, smoothing out the scowl.

"Yura: less talking, more licking. Your tongue has something better to be doing, remember? And if you don't like the taste, you can sto—"

"No," says JJ. "No stopping."

" _I_ say he can, if he doesn't want to do it," Beka says strongly. JJ sighs and shrugs.

"All right, sure, fine, whatever."

Yuri takes in a long breath, then lets it out as he leans forward and takes a tentative lick. It's salty-bitter, but strangely appealing to his palette. He drags the flat of his tongue up Beka's shaft, and even though his mouth is slightly dry and his technique is haphazard at best, he's rewarded with a throaty groan from Beka. It sounds like it's ripped straight from a porno.

It takes some adjustment, but he finally figures out how to jack JJ with a snug, almost painful grip, and to lap at Beka's length with more enthusiasm than finesse. Yuri's aware that he's not very good at it, but he's hoping that his eagerness will make up for any mistakes.

Soon enough he's managing to fist JJ's cock fast and rough, a dirty-hard edge to the flicks of his wrist, the way he twists his hand around JJ's shaft as he finally parts his lips and swallows down just the crown of Beka's dick.

Almost immediately, Beka's slit drips fluid into his mouth, and, unprepared for it—though he should have been—his jaw slackens and it drips from the corners of his mouth. But he is _not_ going to give up, or let this defeat him. He's the fucking Russian punk, he's _tough_.

Yuri slides the hood back with his hand and seals his mouth more firmly over Beka's cock, carefully taking in another inch or two. It bottoms out inside his mouth pretty quickly; there's no way Yuri's gonna be able to deepthroat on his first try.

He keeps his hand wrapped around the base of Beka's length, just above Beka's hand, and sucks enthusiastically at the few inches he's managed to handle. More precome fills his mouth, but Yuri's getting used to the taste, to the way Beka's cock throbs on his tongue.

Just barely remembering to cover his teeth, Yuri sucks forcefully and runs his tongue along Beka's cockhead; at the same time he yanks on JJ and turns his wrist so that it wrings a pained cry from JJ's lips. But his cock is smearing precome into Yuri's hand, so he knows JJ likes it.

Pervert.

Yuri's own erection is swollen and aching under the cockring; he's so overstimulated from the buttplug in his ass and the taste and feel of Beka in his mouth that his hard-on is desperate. _He's_ desperate. He wants to come, but he doesn't think he's going to be allowed until he gets off JJ and Beka off.

Yuri experiments with placing his tongue in different places in different ways, even as Beka moans loudly he's still tugging on JJ's cock, and then Beka puts a hand on the top of Yuri's head.

"Yura, stop, I'm gonna—"

" _Fuck_ , me too," JJ gasps, and Yuri pulls of off Beka's cock, turning his face up in confusion, but then Beka's pumping his dick furiously, and he's staring into Yuri's eyes just before he says,

"Close your eyes, Yura."

He manages to shut them just in time; the first spurt hits him on the cheek, then Beka keeps coming, but directs it so that most of the creamy, sticky fluid lands around his mouth, lips, and chin. And in the same breath, JJ moans and his cock spasms in Yuri's fist; JJ's not so polite. Yuri feels the jizz strike his cheek just below his eye, then it hits directly above on his eyebrow. There's the heaviness of come dripping slowly from his eyelashes onto his face, even as he can feel JJ jizz in his fucking _hair_.

"Oh, you _bastard_ ," he snarls, and opening his mouth gives JJ one last perfect opportunity—or technically both of them: they ride out their orgasms together, and Beka and JJ's spunk mixes together as it drops like a dollop of cream into his tongue, in his open mouth.

In time to the sexy, arousing timbre of their moans, Yuri's cock jerks against the cockring, but it staves off his orgasm and he can't come. Biting his lips in frustration, Yuri reaches for it, even as his ass clenches on the buttplug—which isn't quite as filling as he'd like it to be.

But JJ's hand is there to halt his progress.

"No, kitten. Not yet."

Yuri opens his eyes, only to close them again at the flash of JJ's camera phone.

"Goddammit, JJ!" he yelps, wiping at the jizz on his face. "And you came in my fucking _hair_ , you weaselly bastard!"

"Relax," Beka says, getting down on his knees and kissing him lightly on his newly defiled lips. "I'll wash it for you."

And that's that. Beka does as he's promised: but he washes Yuri with Yuri still wearing the cockring, on the agonizing edge of orgasm but unable to find completion.


	6. Chapter 6

**Room 723, 1:43 a.m.**

Yuri does the walk of shame back to the room he's sharing with Viktor, just in time to see Viktor closing the door to the katsudon's hotel room. Their eyes meet, and they stare at each other like deer caught in the headlights. Viktor's the first to look away, covering his face and tugging on his bangs before walking towards Yuri.

"Have a fun night with the piggy?" Yuri asks sarcastically. Viktor is disheveled, and his face is ruddy. His silvery eyelashes on one side look all clumped together—and Yuri is pretty sure he can guess why, though he doesn't _really_ want to know.

"I don't know what you mean," Viktor hedges. He casts a keen eye over Yuri and takes the offensive. "And where were _you_ , Yurio?"

"Out smoking," Yuri immediately replies. It's a lie that Viktor should be able to see through easily—it's terrible for an athlete to smoke, and Yuri wants to be better than his best. Of course he'd never pollute his body with cigarettes. Though he supposes it's a toss-up whether taking jizz in the ass and mouth is its own kind of pollution.

"You know I'm never going to believe that," Viktor says, taking on an adult tone. As if Viktor has any right to scold after doing the _exact same thing_ as Yuri.

"So did you enjoy your booty call?" Yuri asks, arching an eyebrow. Viktor's pale skin is perfect for showing off a blush, Yuri thinks, as Viktor becomes embarrassed.

"We need to take this into the room," Viktor says, obviously stalling. So Yuri inserts the keycard, pushes the door open, and holds out an arm.

"After you, Vitya," he says, and after Viktor enters the room Yuri lets the door slam closed. "So, you wanna talk about regrettable decisions? Or yell at me for sneaking out? Why don't we start with you?"

"I'm an _adult_ , Yurio, you can't expect—"

"Maybe that's true," Yuri jumps in, "but Yakov made us room together so that I wouldn't get up to any shenanigans. If he finds out that _you_ fell down on the job and I got into trouble anyway, what do you think he'll say?"

"If you told him that, you'd be incriminating yourself," Viktor argues. "I will just tell him that… uh…"

"One, you have no idea for an alibi, and two, the minute you open your mouth to blab to Yakov, I'm going to make _sure_ he knows you were shacking up with the pig while I was gone."

"But that just gets us both in trouble," Viktor says, appearing confused. Ha! Yuri pounces.

"But you'll be in _worse_ trouble, because, as you said yourself, _you're_ the adult." Checkmate, Yuri thinks triumphantly.

Viktor visibly deflates, accepting that Yuri has won this round.

Yuri's a quick thinker, but it's still kind of amazing he could win that debate when he's still wearing the cockring around his needy erection. Viktor's cheeks turn even more raspberry red when he glances down for a second and his gaze gets caught on Yuri's pajama pants—his cock jutting out in the soft flannel.

Beka had told him he couldn't remove the cockring until after he got back to his room. Yuri thinks Beka's getting off on the idea of Yuri walking the halls with a hard-on, and he _knows_ that fucking pervert JJ is. JJ's probably wishing he could get a video of Yuri's shame—but actually Yuri doesn't really care. His body gives a little involuntary shudder at the thought of getting caught, but in a _good_ way: imagine if someone saw Yuri Plisetsky, Grand Prix Final champion, skulking about the halls with his dick hard. Boy, that would be interesting news in the tabloids.

Yeah, that thought makes Yuri drip a little into his pajama pants. His cock leaks even more when he remembers that Viktor's _just noticed_ his obvious state of arousal. There's a tiny part of him that, now that he's sixteen, wants to press his advantage—see if he can seduce his crush while Viktor's standing there, slightly dazed, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth. His focus is somewhere off to the side, as if he's trying to keep from staring directly at Yuri. He wonders why.

Because Viktor looks like he might be interested, if Yuri bothered enough to try. He almost does it—but he remembers Beka, and JJ, and the fact that if he _did_ take advantage, it wouldn't be a level playing field. How easy might it be, to convince Viktor to fuck him? Or maybe just blow him, whatever. But Viktor could get in real deep shit for fucking Yuri, and Yuri knows that.

So Yuri sighs and waves goodbye to a glorious chance to find out whether Viktor is good in bed. God knows _he_ is, with all of the experience he's gotten with Beka and JJ over the past months.

"Yurio…" Viktor mutters, now trying to look anywhere but at Yuri's excited cock. "Maybe you should, uh, take… care of that."

Messing with him a little can't hurt, right?

"Can't." Yuri grins, cat's got the cream smile, and he just had _plenty_ of cream, if you catch his drift. "I've got a cockring on."

Viktor looks like maybe the top of his head wants to blow off.

"Jesus, Yurio, have some _discretion_!" Viktor hisses in a heated whisper. Huh. Yuri revises his earlier thought: Viktor looks like someone needs to peel him off the ceiling. This is fun.

Except his erection is growing steadily more painful the longer he goes without release. Beka told him not to wait _too_ long to take it off, but he probably hadn't counted on Yuri having an encounter with Viktor while he was still wearing it.

"I think I'll just use the bathroom," Yuri says nonchalantly. "To take off the cockring and stroke my fat cock until I jizz all over, naturally."

It's a good thing Viktor is probably tipsy from his evening with the katsudon. He might not remember that Yuri has a filthy mouth. Or maybe he will, but Yuri doubts he's ever going to bring this up again.

"Uh, yeah," Viktor says, and presents Yuri with his back. "Do… something about it, and for fuck's sake, Yurio, don't _tell_ me."

Yuri kind of hopes that Viktor's hiding an erection of his own with that movement, but he'll probably never know, because just the fact that he's a little shit doesn't mean he's going to force Viktor to admit to anything.

He closes the bathroom door with a resounding thud and then pulls his pajama pants down. The cockring is a little bit of a bitch to remove because he's been wearing it so long, but with a little effort, it tugs free. He's got a terrible case of blue balls now, but he remembers clearly the instructions of his friend, so he starts up the shower and, girding his loins—ha—he steps into the very, very _cold_ fucking spray.

This is like his third shower of the day, but it's a good thing, because Yuri discovers that there's still come in his hair where Beka missed a spot—probably because Beka had a hard time washing his hair, since he was so distracted by making out with Yuri under the warm sluice of water.

Those thoughts are not helping his erection to go down, so he imagines Yakov and Lilia fucking—that does the trick, and quite neatly, too. Yuri turns the faucets to warm and begins to scrub at his hair.

No wonder Viktor had been looking at him funny. Or not looking at him, as the case may be.

And then Yuri has another, unbidden thought: Viktor always scolds him for referring to the katsudon that way. But this time Viktor didn't—and not only that, but he was definitely abstracted. And he _did_ look awfully guilty.

Too guilty.

Just who _was_ Viktor fucking? Because he gave in too easily to Yuri's reasoning. Now that the cockring is off and Yuri doesn't have a case of blue balls, he can think more clearly. And his brain has vomited up this idea: that Viktor might be cheating on Yuuri. Strangely enough, this makes Yuri both angry and sad. He wishes he _had_ seduced Viktor now. He would have deserved it. But again, there's Beka and JJ to consider.

Yuri supposes if it were just JJ, he wouldn't mind so much. But Beka… they may not be boyfriends, and no one ever said they were going to be exclusive—after all, what does that make JJ?—but his friend might feel bad. He does seem to like fucking Yuri an awful lot.

Sometimes Yuri hates his brain—because now he has to know. When he gets out of the shower… He pours more shampoo into his hands and lathers up his hair again.

Fuck, but come is a bitch to get out of his hair.

&~&

**Official Worlds Hotel, Shanghai, China - Hallway/Room 723**

Ditching Viktor again is pretty easy, because he had said something about using the bathroom and disappeared behind a locked door.

So now Yuri is prowling the hallway, checking room numbers until he finds the door that Viktor came out of. Then, pretending to be drunk and lost, he inserts his keycard into the wrong slot, knowing it will beep red and deny him entry—but it will also alert the occupant inside, if that person is still awake.

When Christophe Giacometti opens the door, Yuri knows he was right: Chris was still awake, and Viktor was fucking around.

"Yuri?" Chris says, rubbing his green eyes and looking adorably confused with mussed blond hair. "It's very late. What are you doing?"

"Sorry," Yuri slurs on purpose, "forgot which… uh. Room. I thought this was my room."

"Are you… drunk?" Chris asks, eyes beginning to look a little more focused. "Here, let me see your keycard. Room 723. I'll walk you back to your room."

Oh, this is even better than Yuri expected. Chris taking him back to his room—that he shares with Viktor. Should be _very_ interesting.

"I might be a little lost, thanks," Yuri mumbles, peeking up at Chris through his eyelashes. Chris seems discomfited for a heartbeat, but then he shakes his head and exits his room, shutting the door softly and putting a hand on Yuri's arm.

"Yeah, okay, let me help you," he says, and they walk, together, Yuri intentionally stumbling every so often, back to 723. Chris is still holding Yuri's keycard, so he unlocks the door and pushes it open.

Just in time to see Viktor re-entering the main room, obviously coming from a shower, because he's covered with nothing but a skimpy towel, and he's soaking wet.

"Oh, shit," Chris breathes, then glances down at Yuri. "Uh, I'm just going to—"

"Chris?" Viktor's eyes widen, then he quickly throws a dirty look at Yuri. "What is Yurio doing?"

"He's drunk," Chris says, shrugging. But Yuri can _taste_ the undercurrent of guilt going on here. Chris is clearly uncomfortable, and his eyes keep straying towards Viktor, stalling and catching, then he realizes what he's doing and quickly tears his eyes away.

Viktor, too, is not a very good liar, nor is he proficient at hiding his guilty conscience—or his lust for Chris. Viktor's whole chest is a cherry-red stain, and the tips of his ears are reddened too. But perhaps most telling is that Viktor's towel is not really hiding much.

Viktor's cock isn't hard, and Chris is wearing boxer shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, so it's not like he's seduction extraordinaire, but it still twitches beneath the towel.

"He's not drunk," Viktor says, "he's meddling. Come here, you brat."

Yuri lets go of Chris and wanders slowly into the room, as if still confused and inebriated. 

"I'll, uh, see you in the morning, at the short program," Chris says haltingly, again trying not to stare at Viktor and his miles of naked, still dripping, chest. Viktor's hair is dripping too.

Yuri wonders if his cock is dripping beneath that towel. Chris closes the door behind him, and Viktor rounds on Yuri.

"What the fuck are you doing, Yuri?" he asks furiously.

"I could ask you the same thing," Yuri counters. "What, that fucking fat pig isn't enough for you? Do you just like fucking with his head, maybe?"

"Like you do, you mean? Jesus Christ, Yurio, you don't understand anything. You're just a kid. Don't fucking butt into my relationships."

"Seems to me that cheating on the katsudon is a reason to butt in. And I'm _not_ a kid." Yuri folds his arms over his chest and glares at Viktor. "Was it _Chris's_ come on your eyelashes, Vitya?"

Viktor slumps, but he's not finished, not quite ready for the knockout punch, it appears.

"It might have been, but Yurio, ask yourself this: is it cheating when you fuck JJ without Beka? Or vice versa?"

"How can it be cheating when I'm not dating either of them?"

Viktor sighs, heavily. He scrunches up his wet hair in his hands and regards Yuri.

"Then you won't understand this at all, but Yuuri and I have an open relationship. He knows I love only him, but he accepts that Chris and I like to-to have fun together."

"You're lying," Yuri says. "I'm going to ask the fat piggy himself."

"Don't _call_ him that," Viktor says angrily, "and grow the fuck up, Yurio. You're sixteen now. That angry teenager crap got old a long time ago. And go ahead, ask him. He's going to tell you the same thing."

For the first time since Yuri conceived of the idea that Viktor might be cheating, he's unsure of himself. Of course it could be a bluff. But Viktor has to know Yuri well enough to know that he would call that bluff in a heartbeat—which means it's _not_ a bluff.

Well, then. Time for plan B.

"I want you to to fuck me," Yuri announces. He remembers how hung Viktor is, and the belly button piercing, the long hair, and every stupid childish teenage fantasy he's ever had. If Viktor is allowed to fuck other people besides the katsudon, why not him?

"Are you out of your mind?" Viktor asks, eyebrows going up almost into his hairline. "Why in the world would I do that?"

"I'll keep your secret from Yuuri," Yuri responds. "I don't believe that he _does_ want you fucking other people. In fact, I think that even if he said it was okay, he'd actually be upset and jealous if he knew it was really happening."

"I'm still not going to fuck you, Yurio," Viktor says, but now he's maybe a third of the way hard, his towel really not concealing his interest. Yuri grins—he's the wolf now, he has all the power. He struts across the room, hips swaying on purpose, until he's only inches from Viktor. He brushes back some of Viktor's damp hair, then licks his lips slowly, deliberately. Viktor swallows—Yuri watches his Adam's apple move as he does. It's strangely seductive.

Viktor wants this, Yuri can tell that he does. He palms Viktor's dick through the fluffy cotton, cupping it firmly and rubbing with his thumb until Viktor begins to respond, his body betraying his words from earlier as his cock begins to rise.

"See?" Yuri murmurs, leaning up to suck Viktor's lower lip into his mouth, to bite it gently until it swells. "You like the idea of fucking me."

All of a sudden, Viktor pushes him back. Not forcefully, not even that much of a push, but he's separated them, and he's not looking interested _or_ guilty now. Just disappointed.

"Is this how much Beka and JJ mean to you?" he inquires softly. "Do you think so little of them that you would fuck just anyone else? Yuri, sex isn't a tool. It's not a game. It _means_ something, and even if it doesn't mean the same thing to you, you need to ask yourself: what does it mean to Beka? To JJ?"

"Funny, you giving relationship advice, especially now," Yuri retorts. "Besides, JJ is engaged. He doesn't care about me."

"Are you sure about that?" Viktor asks. "He seems very taken with you, fiancée or not."

"Look," Yuri says, trying to rein in his temper, "JJ's a fucking ass. He's cheating on her and she doesn't even know it. Imagine if she ever finds the pictures—"

"Yurio, _tell_ me you don't have photographic evidence of your… uh… activities. Do you know what would happen if the tabloids got ahold of those?"

"On JJ's phone, so what." Yuri shrugs.

"Then you like him more than you realize," Viktor says. "And you need to delete them. All of them."

"They didn't let me get off," Yuri says, pouting. "Just get me off, then, Vitya. I won't tell anyone. It's not like anyone's ever going to know."

"I bought you those toys. Use _them_ ," Viktor says. He stares meaningfully at Yuri for a moment, but when Yuri looks blankly back at him, he sighs again and explains, " _I'm_ not a toy to be used, Yura, and that's what you're doing: _using_ me. Or trying to, except I won't let you."

"I've had a crush on you forever," Yuri says plaintively. "I just wanna know what it's like. Just once. Vitya, please. Besides. You wanted it. I know you did."

"It's flattering," Viktor tells him, "but we didn't even discuss Beka yet. Yuri…"

"What?" He makes a moue of displeasure.

"Beka loves you," Viktor says simply.

"He— I— What?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

"He doesn't," Yuri says weakly. "He would have told me."

"Would he?" Viktor turns around and begins dressing, sadly pulling up his underwear beneath the towel before removing it. Yuri kind of wants to remind him of all the times he's walked around in his underwear—and they were thong underwear, so Yuri's seen his naked ass plenty of times. In locker rooms before competitions, too.

"Ask yourself, Yuri. Are you receptive to the idea of someone loving you?"

Yuri finds himself squirming, and it's not because he was turned on five seconds ago.

"Well," Yuri says, groping for a response (and he'd rather be groping Viktor), " _I_ don't love _him_ , you know."

"Yuri Plisetsky, do you think it's going to hurt less for Beka if you fuck someone else besides JJ, and then tell him, 'well, sorry, but I don't love you'?"

Crap. Viktor is transferring all of _his_ guilty feelings to Yuri.

"You're wrong, anyway," Yuri says. "It's just fun. Beka is my best friend. He knows we're just fucking around. I'm sixteen. It's not like I'd want to—" but what? Yuri doesn't even know, actually. He's not dating the other two… so of course mentioning relationships or marriage or lasting commitments is stupid. But now he's wondering: what do Beka and JJ think?

Well, obviously JJ is engaged to Isabella, so he's not a concern. Not really, anyway. But as far as Yuri knows, Beka hasn't shown the slightest interest in dating anyone—boy _or_ girl.

Except Yuri. His heart gives a painful thump as he remembers all the times he rebuffed Beka's romantic overtures, the times he screamed about being treated like a girl. If Beka doesn't want to date _Yuri_... then wouldn't he have found someone else by now? Anyone, even if it was just a crush?

"Think about it," Viktor says. "Go to bed, Yurio. You're competing tomorrow afternoon. I'm exhausted; I'm going to get some sleep. And for crying out loud, no more sneaking out!"

Viktor's no fun at all.

Even if he can't sneak out, he can still get even with Viktor in other ways. Defiantly, he retrieves the anal beads and lies back on the chaise near Viktor's bed. From this angle, he can see Viktor's face highlighted by moonlight, his eyes determinedly closed, his hand tucked under his cheek, against the pillow.

Lubing up the toys, Yuri moans loudly, just for the entertainment value of seeing Viktor's eyebrows twitch. But Viktor is just as stubborn as Yuri: he keeps his eyes shut and doesn't move, even though Yuri can see his dick poke up the bedsheets at the sounds Yuri is making.

Yuri isn't even interested in actually getting off, but he pulls his knees up to his chest and begins to thread the anal beads back into his body. They go easily, so easily, and he switches them on, listening to the hum of the vibration as he begins to get hard again.

Cock slowly dripping precome onto his abs, Yuri breathes into the darkness exaggerating the heaviness of it for effect. If Viktor knows that Yuri is deliberately playing it up, he's not giving any indication; his body, though, betrays that he finds what Yuri is doing hot, even if his mind is trying to be all _responsible adult_ about it.

He's not supposed to get off, but what Beka and JJ don't know won't hurt them. It's not like Viktor's going to say anything. Besides… if he stops before he comes, then it doesn't count, right?

Yuri's pretty sure that's semantics, but he doesn't wanna think about that right now. Right now he just wants to watch the way Viktor unconsciously licks his lips as his cock goes fully hard beneath the sheets.

It's almost too easy, not even worth the challenge, but Yuri wants to see Viktor come now. He wants to be the one that makes Viktor fall apart. Because Viktor refuses to acknowledge him in any conscious way, he must have no idea where Yuri is in the room. Subsequently, Yuri's got a prime viewing option for when Viktor's hand—the one beneath the sheets—creeps down to rest on the delicious evidence of the effect Yuri's having on him.

That's fucking hot. So Yuri winds himself up more, cramming the beads in as far as they'll go and pushing his ass down against the base. Whining in the back of his throat, no longer needing to feign it, Yuri begins to pump the beads in and out of his hole, voice growing louder and louder as he fucks himself hard on them.

The vibrations make him tremble inside, and his dick is slick from tip to base in precome, leaving smears of fluid on his belly where it lays flat. His piercing is getting goopy, most likely, and with that thought, Yuri reaches down his body and flicks at the barbell with his fingertip.

It sends a shock of lightning racing across his nerves; who knew that, when all worked up, that would feel so good? His cock throbs, and Viktor shifts uncomfortably in the bed, his hand now moving faster under the bedcovers.

Yuri realizes how loudly he moaned when he played with his belly button piercing, and he wonders if Viktor ever did that when he had one. Yuri is finding it hard to focus, but he trains his eyes on Viktor's cock, lush with blood and tenting the bedsheets even as it moves in the circle of Viktor's fist.

Well. Now Yuri has to make sure Viktor comes. It's a challenge, and he's going to give it his best. He rubs the little barbell, and the back of his hand brushes against his cock; with his other hand, he twists the beads inside of him even as he drags them out and plows them back in.

It's quickly becoming a race to the finish line, but there's no way Yuri's going to let himself finish first. He slows his hands and waits, still panting into the silence, the squelch of the beads in and out of his ass thunderous in the room. Viktor's own breathing is rapid and harsh, his fingers twisting over the head of his cock on the downstroke, and Yuri bites his lip.

Viktor uncurls his fingers from beneath his face, moving his hand to press it, in a fist, to his mouth. The sight of him biting down on it makes Yuri's heart pound, but even that doesn't quite smother the sexy little noises escaping Viktor's lips.

"Aaahhh," Yuri says, grinding down onto the flared base of the toy. That does it: Viktor's eyelashes flutter and his body goes taut, then relaxes as a stain spreads over the sheet where the head of his cock is prominently outlined. Yuri thinks maybe he lost at his own game when the image of Viktor getting off to him masturbating sends him right over into bliss.

His hole throbs around the beads as Yuri spills over his belly. Dammit. He is _so_ not taking another shower.

Yuri waits until he's done coming, body slowly winding down, before tugging the anal beads out and switching them off. He stares at them in his hand for a minute, then says, as if to himself,

"Thankfully Viktor bought me these, so that I could still get off even without Beka or JJ."

Viktor's body shudders slightly under the sheets and Yuri knows he scored a direct hit. Except that now, as he towels come off his belly with the damp towel Viktor'd used after his shower earlier, he's thinking about Beka and JJ. And his thoughts are… not about the fucking he might get, or the guilt he should probably feel for disobeying them. No. It's worse than that.

When he climbs into his bed, Yuri lies awake for a long time, for once not thinking about his cock or wanting to get off anymore, but _feelings_.

He's pretty sure he would know if he actually wanted to _keep_ Beka. Or JJ. But then again, how _is_ he supposed to know, really?

As he finally starts to doze, he half-remembers words he thought Beka whispered to him on his birthday. But that was just a dream… right?

So why do his dreams seem so full of guilt?

&~&

**Shanghai Oriental Sports Center, 10:45 a.m., men's locker room**

"Why did you get me up so early, Beka?" Yuri complains, as they enter the Sports Center arena where the championships are being held. Beka's carrying a duffel, and Yuri's desperately curious as to what's inside—because it's still too early to change into his costume.

"JJ and I owe you one," Beka says shortly, eyes scanning the place as Yuri practically runs to keep up with Beka's much longer stride. Not as long as JJ's, but still, Beka's taller than he is.

"Wait, what? Do you mean…" Yuri flushes at the thought. Guilt immediately follows his body's passion response. He hasn't told Beka—or JJ—about masturbating last night. He wasn't supposed to get off, and in the harsh light of day, what he did seems wrong. Especially since Beka and JJ seem to have cooked up something of a treat for him.

He's a terrible person. Still, it's not like both Beka and JJ don't already know that about him. He crams the guilt in a mental suitcase and sends it off to get lost in transit.

"We're late meeting JJ," Beka tells him. "You being a sleepyhead has set us back fifteen minutes already."

"I was up most of the night, remember?" Yuri reminds Beka. His stomach growls and Beka throws a quick look at him over his shoulder.

"You can have breakfast as soon as we're done," he says, "but hurry up, Yura."

"Where are we—oh."

The men's locker room is deserted when Beka pushes the door open. JJ, it turns out, is waiting at the entrance to the showers.

"Hey there, kitten," he says, an amused smile on his face. "Couldn't sleep? Too wound up maybe?"

Crap. He has no idea. Yuri was wound up all right—then he fell back to earth, then his mind was too wound in circles to sleep. But he can't tell them that. He doesn't know how they would react, and he's selfish, he wants whatever they've got planned. And Viktor will never say a word, because then he'd have to admit to fucking his hand to the sound of Yuri getting off—and he's almost twice Yuri's age. No, he'd never get himself in that kind of trouble.

"No thanks to you," Yuri snaps. "I had to take three showers yesterday, in part because I had _your come_ still stuck to my hair."

"Not gonna apologize for that, kitten," JJ says, the smug bastard. "You looked _so damn hot_ all marked up with my come. And Otabek's too, of course."

Beka has the good grace to look a little ashamed of himself.

"I don't mind _Beka's_ come," Yuri throws at JJ. "But _yours_ is disgusting."

JJ rolls his eyes. He's only half-dressed, ripped abs on display, nothing but track pants on below.

"I find that hard to believe," JJ says, a slight curl upward of his lips. "You seemed to enjoy it."

"You think I enjoy _everything_ you do, and you couldn't be further from the truth," Yuri informs him. Let the insufferable bastard chew on _that_. But of course JJ can't let an insult pass without some kind of snarky reply.

"Kitten, if I've ever left you unsatisfied, you have only to let me know, and I'll be sure to rectify it."

Yuri grinds his teeth. Fucking JJ! Why does he have an answer for _everything_?

"Yeah, and what about _last night_?" Yuri snaps, unable to let JJ have the last word.

"Stop—" 

"—Hammer time!" JJ interjects. 

"—we'll run out of time," Beka says softly, steamrolling right over JJ's interruption as if it didn't happen. 

"Right," Yuri agrees, then looks back and forth between them. "For what?"

"You'll see," JJ says at the same time Beka tells him,

"How fast can you get off, Yura?"

"I… don't know?" Yuri says slowly. "I've never had to rush it?"

"Hey, when was your first orgasm, kitten?" JJ asks curiously. Yuri thinks if he clenches his teeth any harder, they might crack. Why does JJ have to be so obnoxious? He's hot, but he just… argh, Yuri can't stand him. He ruthlessly squashes the little butterflies in his belly, because he really _can't_ stand him. Honest.

"I don't know why that's any of your business," Yuri says tightly. JJ musses up his own hair, as if trying to go for sex-tousled and therefore super hot. His arrogance is astounding. Yuri is pretty sure that if JJ could, he'd fuck _himself_.

"Wait, don't tell me, I'll guess." JJ smirks. "Grand Prix Final, 2014, right before I showed up at your door and fucked you?"

"No," Yuri says, "and I gagged you back then, remember? I _will_ do it again, Leroy."

"Am I close? Sometime in 2014? Maybe right when you just turned fifteen?" JJ is nauseating sometimes. He won't give it up, and Yuri supposes he won't quit until he gets his answer. Yuri is strongly tempted to lie. It's the fact that Beka can refute it if he lies that stops him. He doesn't know if Beka _would_ , but that's just the point: he can't be sure.

"I was fourteen," Yuri admits grudgingly. Now if only JJ doesn't ask—

"Who did you fantasize about?" JJ asks, and Yuri fucking _hates_ him. Like he's going to tell him it was Viktor fucking Nikiforov. _Especially_ after last night.

"No one," he lies; he doesn't think even Beka knows about his childhood crush. "Just porn from the internet."

"Well, the internet _is_ for porn," JJ-the-odious observes. The _king_ of odiousness, Yuri thinks meanly.

Yuri wants to punch him in the face.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Yuri asks angrily.

"It's from a musical," Beka explains, before glaring back and forth at them. "Seriously. If we don't hit the showers soon, we're not going to have the place to ourselves anymore."

"I've never heard of that," Yuri says, pouting in JJ's general direction. JJ opens his mouth to respond—something tedious, no doubt—but Beka claps his hand over JJ's mouth.

"JJ," Beka says, "if you let it go, I'll kiss you. Just please. Let it go. For the love of God. You're older than he is."

JJ's eyes go wide, innocent, like he's not a repugnant asshole.

Beka cants his head to the side, then sighs. He pulls away his hand and leans up. JJ's eyelashes flutter as his lids close; he leans _down_ and their mouths meet in a sexy caress, lips sliding back and forth over each other.

Suddenly very interested in the turn things have taken, Yuri's cock throbs once. He steps over behind Beka, and ever so casually gropes Beka's ass. Beka doesn't jump away, he just shivers and his muscles quiver beneath Yuri's hand as Beka moans into JJ's mouth.

Okay, this is awesome, but Yuri is starting to feel left out.

"When is it my turn?" Yuri asks, intruding on their moment and not feeling the least bit bad about it. JJ breaks the kiss, and Beka's lower lip catches against JJ's mouth for a second. There is a thin, silvery thread of saliva that connects them as JJ blinks and opens his deep blue eyes.

Dammit. Yuri has a weakness for those eyes; his heart skips a beat.

"Yeah," JJ breathes, and he seems stunned by the intensity of Beka's kiss. Eyes appearing dazed and out of focus, JJ walks backward, hands linked with Beka's now. Yuri follows the two of them, feeling strangely out of place.

He's always been smack in the middle of this, whatever this thing is that they're doing. But now Beka and JJ seem very concentrated on each other. Yuri doesn't like this feeling. He feels… but he doesn't have a name for it. Just unsettled, he supposes.

The duffel is hanging from Beka's shoulder, and JJ and Beka don't completely break apart until it starts to slip down Beka's arm and he has to let go of JJ to catch it.

The showers are deserted, and it's here that Beka faces Yuri.

"Clothes off," he says, and Yuri opens his mouth, but Beka forestalls him by saying, "Don't argue with me. Just do it."

"Oh yeah," JJ says, halfway to a moan. His eyes are slightly glassy now, the blue of his irises only a thin ring. A quick peek downward confirms Yuri's suspicions: JJ's cock is already a thick outline in his track pants. Yuri figures he's getting off on Beka's dominant behavior. JJ seems ready to lie down and be walked all over, but Yuri's not that easy, he still wants to argue.

But then he remembers the time constraints and figures it's best to keep his mouth shut and just comply with Beka's wishes—even if that's the only reason why he does so without some kind of argument.

Yuri strips out of his shirt and pants, trying not to smirk at JJ and Beka when they both realize—at the same instant—that Yuri's not wearing any underwear. Beka recovers, but JJ keeps staring; Yuri stops feeling smug and starts to feel something else. Something that is not, surprisingly, anger: no, it's a jolt of arousal right to his dick, causing it to straighten up towards his belly.

"Look at that," JJ remarks, "the kitten likes being stared at. Are you an exhibitionist, kitten?"

"What do _you_ think?" Yuri counters. "Have I ever once refused to let you take your filthy pictures?"

"And you whacked off in front of Beka," JJ says, obviously remembering their first sexual encounter. "And it's true that you let yourself be fucked on a livestream while I watched."

Yuri flushes and his stomach twists uncomfortably. His dick, though, doesn't take any notice of that; it's well on its way to full hardness. For maybe the first time ever Yuri finds himself eyeing the bulge of JJ's cock and comparing the two of them.

"It must suck to be a gay man," Yuri says thoughtfully. "I bet you always wonder who has the better dick. Bigger, thicker, prettier."

"Yura…" Beka starts to say, but JJ holds up a hand.

"Just tell him," JJ says. "Clearly I have the best dick."

"That is _so_ not true," Yuri says. "I much prefer Beka's."

"Oh, kitten, I'm hurt," JJ says. Beka might be looking a little pink.

"I… Thank you, Yura, but I don't think gay men think of things that way." Beka is _definitely_ looking pink now. Yuri's confused; Beka sounds like he's speaking from experience. But that's crazy, right? They're all three of them figure skaters, so of course it makes sense they would be _questionable_ , and Yuri can understand finding the two of them hot, but he's not gay.

Is Beka _gay_?

He wants to ask, but he chokes the question back. It's none of his business, and Beka, if he _were_ a homosexual, would surely have confided in Yuri by now. He would have… right?

"C'mere, kitten, why don't you take a look for yourself and _then_ tell me that Beka's is better." JJ thrusts out his hip, causing his dick to shift and press even more against the material of his pants. It's true that JJ's cock is huge, but size isn't everything.

"Size isn't everything," Yuri says, echoing his thought, and JJ bursts into laughter. Wiping at his eyes as if there are tears there, he replies,

"Says the guy who needs at least two dicks at once to get off."

"That is _not_ true," Yuri says, but he's suffused by mortification. "Okay, I liked it, but I can get off without it!"

"Don't tease him, JJ, unless you're going to use your hands. Now, you know what to do, right?"

"Yeah, I got this," JJ tells Beka, then his gaze travels up and down Yuri's nude body. "I got you, kitten. You'll like this."

All of a sudden Yuri finds himself wondering why JJ is always so nice to him. What does he get out of it? The thought that maybe JJ has an ulterior motive—throwing him off his game to medal higher than he does?—causes him to lash out.

"Hey, JJ," Yuri asks, as JJ is unzipping Beka's duffel. "Why do you want to fuck me? Is it just because I'm only sixteen years old?"

JJ flinches and Beka's lips part on a gasp.

"Would you say the same thing to Beka?" JJ asks, and his face is dark, closed off now. Angry. Yuri supposes he deserves it—he wonders why _that's_ the accusation he chose to hurl at JJ.

"Yura!" Beka says. "Why the fuck would you say something like that?"

"I… I'm sorry," says Yuri, clumsily. He's not good at apologizing. But then again, his cock is still stiff, and his mind just needs to get with the program. He should not have fucked himself on those anal beads last night—it's making him fucking squirrelly this morning. Funny what a guilty conscience will do. Why is he trying to make JJ into a worse person—is it just to make himself feel better?

"I always knew you could be an asshole, Yuri, but I didn't think you'd stoop that low. Haven't you figured out by now that I fuck you because I _like_ you? It has nothing to do with your age."

Maybe it's because JJ thinks he's hot, then. Because, except for Beka, Yuri has a hard time imagining _anyone_ might like him.

"Yura, I'm not sure we should—"

"I said I was sorry," Yuri says petulantly. "Maybe JJ just thinks I'm hot because I'm so much smaller than he is."

"It's true that you're a tiny little fey sprite, kitten, but that isn't it either. I _told_ you why."

"I'm a _what_? Fuck you, JJ." Now _Yuri_ is angry. He bends down to pick up his clothes, and he doesn't even see it coming: someone smacks him on the ass. Hard. Like, hard enough to hurt and Yuri doesn't get off on pain. He straightens and whirls, ready to give JJ a piece of his mind—something like, "I don't like pain like you do, you fuckhead—” but he finds himself staring into brown eyes, not blue ones.

Beka.

"You hit me," he says in disbelief. "You… actually… Beka." His feelings—those stunted, unrecognized things—sting more than his ass does.

"You were asking for it," Beka says steadily. "You were being a little bitch, and after we went to all this trouble. Yura, either be nice to JJ or this is over."

"You already didn't let me get off once!" Yuri exclaims. He's starting to feel very cold, very naked, and not a little small.

"No." JJ is standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not a chew toy, Yuri, to be played with and thrown away when you're done. I'm not kitty treats to be consumed, either. You'll learn to be nicer to me or _this_ is over."

"You mean… everything?" Yuri is flabbergasted. Turning to Beka, he realizes Beka's staring at the floor, his lip bitten between his teeth, but he's not refuting JJ. "You're going to stop fucking me?"

"Do you honestly think you should get to keep this arrangement when you're always being a little asshole?" JJ asks. Apparently he's the spokesperson now, and he's not being snarky or playful right now. Yuri has… Crap, he really fucked up.

"I'm sorry, JJ. Seriously." Yuri frowns. "Please come here," he asks, trying to modulate his voice into some semblance of pleasantness.

JJ appears dubious, but he comes to stand in front of Yuri, his eyes no longer blown from desire. Yuri has to try to change that. He can't let this be the end. He doesn't even know _why_ , just that it can't end like this. It can't end _now_.

"Please kiss me," he says deferentially. It feels weird to be on the supplicating side, but he supposes he owes JJ that much. JJ's lips part; his breath is warm on Yuri's forehead.

"You sure?" he asks, suddenly adorably confused—and when did Yuri start thinking JJ was adorable, in any sense?

"Yes," Yuri affirms. "I can't—JJ, you're too tall."

JJ's arms drop to his sides; he licks his lip—almost nervously?—and inhales sharply.

"No biting," he warns, eyes unbearably blue. Yuri nods. He goes up on tiptoe and places his hands on JJ's shoulders. He's distantly aware that he doesn't know what Beka's doing, but that doesn't seem to matter at the moment; all he can think of is placating JJ.

But when JJ's hands link behind his neck, thumbs stroking over his nape, Yuri forgets all about just being nice to JJ to make the two of them happy. No, he's quite completely taken in by the softness of JJ's lips, the gentleness of his tongue as he slips it into Yuri's mouth.

Before Yuri knows what's happening, he's clinging to JJ, devouring his mouth, attacking his tongue like he can't get enough. He can't even remember to breathe—suddenly he's falling back onto the flats of his feet and gasping, gazing at JJ in wonder.

"You see, kitten?" JJ says huskily. "See how good it can be when you don't fight me?"

"I will bite you next time," Yuri says, but his voice is embarrassingly throaty. It doesn't have the anger in it he wants—only a sense of the thickness of desire that Yuri's feeling.

"Maybe next time I'll let you," JJ replies. He's entirely focused on Yuri's eyes, and Yuri feels like he's suffocating in the deep blue of JJ's eyes. JJ is communicating worlds of intent with them—and emotions that Yuri doesn't understand.

Which is when Beka finally makes his presence known again, with a lubed up finger pressing directly into Yuri's hole.

"Relax and open for me, Yura," Beka murmurs into his ear. Yuri obeys, and Beka removes his finger and replaces it with—it's not Beka's cock. "JJ?" Beka asks, and JJ slides one hand down Yuri's spine, caressing every knob of his vertebrae on his way to delving between Yuri's cheeks and taking hold of the toy from Beka.

Beka drops a kiss on Yuri's bare shoulder ass JJ begins to rock the buttplug—because Yuri's recognized it now as JJ's favorite toy—back and forth without slipping it out.

"More," Yuri begs shamelessly, arching his back and pressing down onto the buttplug. JJ responds by fucking him on it, quick sharp movements of his hand and wrist.

Yuri keens low in his throat as JJ angles it just right and it rubs over his prostate. His cock dribbles precome over his belly, and Beka reaches around him from behind and smears his fingers through the fluid; he skims his hands all over Yuri's abs and chest, but somehow he never gets quite close _enough_ to the place where Yuri wishes Beka would just grab hold already.

As JJ keeps slamming the buttplug in and out with an almost brutal rhythm, Beka plays with Yuri's belly button piercing. He flicks at it with a fingertip, and Yuri throws his head back; Beka's snugged up against his back, and his head lands on Beka's shoulder.

"JJ—" Yuri cries, squirming on the delicious intrusion, trying to get closer, to get _more_.

Beka begins to leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, pausing every so often so suck hard against the tender flesh. Yuri cries out again, caught between the two of them, unable to decide whether he wants to reach back for Beka or to beg JJ for more.

"Deeper," he gasps, body singing with pleasure. "Beka—"

"I got you, Yura," Beka says, wrapping his arms around Yuri's middle. He holds Yuri up when his knees threaten to buckle, but even though he strokes Yuri's skin with his fingers, he still doesn't caress the part of Yuri that is desperate for it.

"Fuck," he swears, body twisting between them; he consciously bears down on the buttplug in an attempt to get it further inside, only to whine in disappointment when he finds himself up against the flared base. "I need _more_ ," Yuri pants.

Beka rubs his side soothingly, placing more delicate kisses behind Yuri's ear.

"Otabek?" JJ asks, even as he turns the buttplug while it's still far into Yuri's body.

Now Beka gathers up some more precome on his fingers, then slips his hand behind Yuri. Just when Yuri's about to plead for more again, two of Beka's fingers jam up inside alongside the buttplug.

"B-beka!" Yuri lets out a scream. JJ's hand smothers it by covering Yuri's mouth. Yuri is so overcome with sensation that he's literally almost _beyond_ feeling; he grinds down onto Beka's fingers—three of them now—and the buttplug and sinks his teeth into JJ's palm as his balls draw up, his cock jerks, and he splatters thick ropes across JJ's tight abs.

His ears are ringing, and his hole is tightening strongly around the toy and Beka's fingers, even as his eyes slam shut and he shakes heavily between them.

"That's it, kitten," JJ says, even as he hisses in pain. Against Yuri's side, JJ's cock spasms and throbs. Beka plunges his fingers deep into Yuri again and then rolls his pelvis, driving his hard dick into the small of Yuri's back.

"I c-can't—" Yuri stammers, and slowly Beka slips his fingers free. JJ tugs the buttplug out and Beka sets him back on his feet—and when had Beka lifted him up?

He's having trouble breathing as Beka runs his hands up and down along his ribs.

"Shh," Beka soothes. "It's okay."

Yuri can't believe he came that hard when he just got off only a few hours before. Then he remembers that Beka and JJ don't even know about that.

He can feel both of their hearts racing against his front and back, and as soon as he's steady on his feet, they step away from him. Yuri blinks a little woozily and regards JJ.

"You didn't come," he says stupidly. JJ quirks his lips into a rueful smile.

"It's our payback," he says. Well, crap. Yuri drops to his knees and noses at JJ's crotch, but JJ grabs his hair and yanks his head back. It's a little more violent than is probably necessary, but Yuri probably deserves it.

Denied JJ's cock in his mouth, Yuri grips JJ's hips and begins to lick, drop by drop, his come from JJ's ripped abs. His six-pack flutters against Yuri's tongue as Yuri laps it up, following the trails of come until JJ's washboard abs are clean of the mess Yuri made. It _is_ only fair he clean up after himself.

"Oh," Beka says, sounding partly extremely turned on and partly worried. "I think we're going to run out of time. Gotta get you dressed again, Yura."

"One more kiss," JJ says, using his hand in Yuri's hair to guide him back to standing up. He winds an arm around Yuri's lower back, just above the swell of his ass, and claims his mouth. He sucks at the inner sleekness of his cheeks, chasing down the remnants of Yuri's come in his mouth.

Beka's deft fingers wipe at the lube dripping down Yuri's inner thighs, and then JJ's letting him go.

"I really am sorry," Yuri says, drunk enough on orgasm to apologize again.

"I know," JJ says, and his hand dips down, goosing Yuri. He lets out a little shriek and Beka says, sternly,

"You have to get dressed, Yura. And we have to get ready for the short program still."

"I'm gonna beat your best scores," Yuri declares as he pulls his pants back on. JJ shrugs back into a shirt and rewards Yuri with a dirty grin.

"Pretty sure you just scored, kitten. Oh, you meant in skating? Yeah, I'll be winning gold this time."

"Fuck you, you will not," Yuri growls.

"Shut up, both of you. Come on."

The buttplug disappears back into the duffel and Beka begins walking briskly towards the exit. Exchanging an almost cordial look, Yuri and JJ follow.

Who knew that a little sweetness towards JJ could lead to such a mind-blowing orgasm?


	7. Chapter 7

**Shanghai Oriental Sports Center, 3:45 p.m., men's locker room**

"Hurry up, Yura, we'll be late," Lilia says, practically guarding him on one side while Yakov walks on the other. "Your nap ran long."

Yuri definitely does not tell her that the reason his nap was overlong was because he got started on it late. Getting his ass thoroughly fucked by JJ and Beka that morning had exhausted him, and he'd gotten back to his hotel room around eleven thirty in the morning.

"I must have fallen asleep later than I thought," Yuri says. He tries to surreptitiously rub his ass, but Lilia has eagle eyes, and not for the first time Yuri wishes she weren't so observant.

"Are you sure you're feeling well?" Lilia asks. "Look at him, Yakov. Have you been working him too hard? He's limping a bit."

"No, I'm fine," Yuri protests, blushing. He _is_ a little sore, but it's nothing that should impair his ability to skate.

"I didn't see you eat a proper breakfast," Lilia comments. "Yuri, you did eat today, yes?"

"Leave the boy alone," Yakov says gruffly. "He knows when to eat."

Lilia gives him a dark look.

"Don't think I don't remember what you were like when you were competing, Yakov." Lilia puts a hand on Yuri's shoulder. "He's looking thinner."

"He's fine, Lilia, don't meddle," Yakov says. Yuri clutches his middle and tries not to think about food. He's been feeling achy lately, joints creaking and sore, and so he's been sneaking food at odd times so no one sees how little he eats.

His stomach growls, but Yuri hopes his hands muffled it. He's probably entering a growth spurt, and he can't bear the thought of losing his slender build or his perfect athleticism. Beka had brought him brunch earlier, but Yuri had only picked at it as soon as Beka left.

"I don't know, Yakov, he seems… pale."

If he _is_ pale, it's probably from all the sex he's been having. Yuri figures he must have lost several kilograms over the last few weeks in a combination of not eating and fucking every chance he gets.

"As long as he's not sick, Lilia," Yakov says. "Are you sick, Yurochka?"

"Nah, I said I'm fine!" Yuri scowls. He isn't about to confide in his jailers about the aches and pains of being a teenager. That's what Google is for. Or even Vitya. He _might_ consider asking Viktor about it. If Viktor can even meet his eyes now—when they passed in the hallway of the hotel earlier, Viktor had hunched over and pretended Yuri wasn't there.

"Oh!" Yuri says, waving. "There's Beka. I'm going to change into my costume. See you."

Lilia looks like she wants to stop him, but she can't really dispute that, and of course all the other male skaters will be getting ready in the locker room too.

Including Beka and JJ. Yuri feels a frisson of something unidentified run through him, but he nudges it aside and trots over to Beka, whose back is half-turned, his face in profile.

"Beka!" he calls, and his friend turns around as Yuri gets close. Yuri stops dead in his tracks, a hand going to cover his mouth, as his cock twitches uncontrollably. Beka's eyes are lined thick and black, the makeup dramatic and oh-so-sexy. It adds to his dangerous allure, along with the leather jacket and the motorcycle. Yuri almost forgets to breathe.

Of course Beka had applied Yuri's own eye makeup for his Welcome to the Madness routine, but Yuri didn't question at the time where he'd learned how to put it on, and he's never seen Beka wear it himself.

Only now Beka looks about ten times more gorgeous than he ever has before.

"Hi, kitten," says a familiar voice, and Yuri realizes that's who Beka was talking to: JJ.

"Beka? Who did your makeup?" Yuri asks, realizing too late how dumb he sounds. "Hi, JJ."

"The King is on the scene," JJ announces, and nearby, Guang Hong and Leo roll their eyes. Yuri thinks he must have said it for their benefit.

"Jeez, are you still on about that?" Leo asks, placing a hand in the center of Guang Hong's back. They disappear into the locker room.

"I trained with Leo in Colorado Springs," JJ tells Yuri. "Hey, did I ever tell you that Otabek and I were rinkmates in Colorado Springs too?"

"No," Yuri says, watching Beka, who's flushed under his makeup now. "You didn't."

"JJ," Beka says quietly, "shut up."

Okay, now Yuri is _very_ curious as to what's going on.

"What is it? What aren't you telling me?" Yuri asks. He's having a hard time not staring into Beka's eyes. God, they look so gorgeous lined like that.

JJ exchanges a glance with Beka, then shrugs. His costume is lavender and sparkly again.

"I'll tell you sometime," he says, rolling his shoulders. "So, will you, Otabek?"

"Will he what?" Yuri asks, lost. "What's going on? And come on, we have to finish changing."

"Otabek is going to—"

"—I said might—"

"—put eyeliner on me too," JJ finishes.

"Oh, you should," Yuri agrees instantly. Just picturing those blue eyes and that black hair combined with the black liner makes his knees weak. "But you didn't say, Beka. Where did you learn that?"

"My mother," Beka says abruptly. "Okay, well, we have to hurry."

The three of them follow Guang Hong and Leo into the locker room and Yuri tries not to remember what they did in here earlier, because if he does, he'll never be able to look the other skaters in the eye again.

JJ throws himself dramatically on a stool in front of a mirror, and Beka unzips a little case Yuri's never seen him with before. Yuri holds up a hand.

"Wait! I wanna watch, but I have to change first or I'll be late. Beka…"

"Yes, Yura?"

"I didn't have Lilia do my hair this time. Will you do it for me?" Yuri claps his hands together behind his back, feeling suddenly a bit shy. Maybe because it reminds him of the shower he took with Beka in Almaty.

"I could do it, kitten," JJ offers. He gives Yuri a brilliant smile, but it looks a little brittle.

"No," Yuri says, "that's okay. I'd rather Beka did it."

JJ's eyes flick downward for a second, then his smile is brighter than ever.

"Well, of course, I'm sure Beka will be amazing at it." But JJ's voice sounds… a little off. Yuri can't quite put his finger on why.

"Put your costume on, Yura, JJ's one of the first skaters to perform, and so I'm going to have to do this quickly."

"Okay," Yuri says, and sheds his street clothes. He wonders if JJ realizes he's wearing the shirt that JJ sent to him in St. Petersburg. As quickly as he can, he steps into his skintight spandex and adjusts it so it sits right. Then he sits down to put his skates on, and lace them up.

When he's finished, he puts on his skate guards, and balances his chin on his palm to watch Beka and JJ.

There's some weird undercurrent going on as Beka gently holds JJ's eye closed. He lines the lower lid with the pencil, then sets it down on the vanity table and very, very lightly smudges the dark line with his thumb. His touches to JJ's face are almost… reverent? Something. Very delicate, maybe even loving. And JJ isn't complaining or jerking away. Yuri frowns mightily. He feels like there's something going on that he doesn't understand, and he doesn't like it.

"There," Beka says in a soft tone. "Now the other eye, JJ."

Again, he almost tenderly closes JJ's eye, drawing below it with the pencil. This time, when his thumb smudges the makeup, JJ bites his lip and shivers. His breathing—from the movements of his chest—seems uneven, choppy. Yuri wants to start screaming at them, and he doesn't even know why.

"All done," Beka says, putting the eyeliner pencil away with a flourish. He zips the little bag, which he shoves at the bottom of his equipment bag, and Yuri wonders what else is in there, that Beka feels the need to hide it.

JJ opens his eyes and the first person he looks at is Yuri, which makes that strange ache in his chest fade until it's almost unnoticeable. Maybe he was just seeing things?

Then he forgets it entirely because the blue of JJ's eyes is even deeper, more vibrant than ever, and Yuri just wants to—he wants to kiss him.

Dammit. Stupid fucking JJ. He just gets under your _skin_ , and Yuri can't stand it.

"What do you think, Yuri-chan?" JJ asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

"I think you're the lady now," Yuri says, and feels kinda bad when JJ's shoulders slump.

"I thought you'd like it," JJ says. "You liked it on Otabek."

Yuri doesn't know how to respond to that. He _does_ like it on Beka. And he does like it on JJ, too, but he can't bring himself to admit it.

"Just do your best," Yuri says. "I don't want it to be easy to beat you."

"Will you watch me, Yuri?" JJ asks. His darkened lids, combined with those blue eyes, are pure sex, and Yuri has to think about Yakov and Lilia together to keep from popping a boner in his costume.

"I guess," Yuri says with the shrug of one shoulder. "If you insist."

"Well, I want you to see how awesome I am, and how my program is going to outdo yours."

"I'm starting to think fucking fellow skaters is a bad idea," Yuri remarks dryly. Beka snorts, and Yuri thinks maybe he was on the verge of laughing.

Yuri sits on the stool next to JJ and waits impatiently for Beka to finish braiding his hair back. He does it so quickly Yuri is almost suspicious, but he's distracted by Beka's next words, after he pats Yuri's shoulder to indicate he's finished with Yuri's hair.

"It's almost media interview time," Beka says, and JJ stands up, puts on his Canada jacket, and does his stupid little hand gestures.

"Time for JJ Style, kitten!" he says. "That shirt looked hot on you, by the way."

_Dammit_. He noticed.

"Just go do your fucking interviews," Yuri snaps.

JJ winks at him with those fucking _eyes_ and exits the locker room. Beka slips into his track jacket too and holds out an arm for Yuri.

"You gonna tell me what's going on with you and JJ?" Yuri asks, shrugging into his own jacket.

"Someday," Beka says evasively. Yuri wants to keep pressing him for answers, but the door swings open under Beka's hand and microphones are shoved in their faces.

Later, then. Yuri can't let this go—there's something uneasy there.

&~&

**Shanghai Oriental Sports Center, 4:15 p.m., ice level**

The next time Yuri gets a chance to get away from the press, he's lost Beka to a crowd of reporters and finds himself seeking JJ in the masses of people milling around waiting for the event to begin. But when he finally lays eyes on JJ, the fucking jerk is standing by the rink, stretching one leg up—and surrounded by not just his parents, but his fiancée.

Yuri's not sure why that makes him so angry, but he feels like his brains are boiling. It only gets worse when he manages to get closer and JJ is giving an interview. 

"Oh, yes, this is my fiancée, Isabella Yang. We've just gotten engaged, and this seemed like a good time to really introduce her."

"Oh, darling," Isabella says, laughing, "we were engaged by the Grand Prix Final last year, remember? He's just being coy with you reporters. But see? Isn't the ring he picked out gorgeous?" She holds up her left hand.

"Not as gorgeous as you, honey," JJ says, giving her his trademark wink. He goes on with,

"She's my high school sweetheart, and I couldn't be happier. Of course, now that I've opened up about being a Christian, it's much easier for people to understand why I keep my image pure."

"In other words, don't expect any scandals," Isabella says. "He's not that kind of guy." She gives JJ the strangest look—almost worried, even uncertain. Yuri supposes he can understand why; after all, he _knows_ what JJ's been doing.

If the media found out, they'd skewer him in the papers. Yuri probably wouldn't fare very well, either, but at least he's not supposed to be super religious. Hell, Yuri didn't even know that about JJ. Until right the fuck now.

The asshole.

Isabella's smile is quite charming, her teeth straight and her lips shining from lip balm. Yuri can see why JJ likes her, but he doesn't understand why JJ hasn't cut her loose yet. Or worse, why he's saying they're getting married. JJ belongs to _Yuri_. Or Beka. Maybe more definitely Beka.

Still.

"Although…" Isabella says, placing a fingertip at the corner of JJ's eye, "I'm not sure the eyeliner really suits a good Christian boy, JJ."

JJ grimaces, and it's slight, almost unnoticeable, but Yuri sees it. Is he rethinking the decision to wear it? Or is he actually annoyed with _Isabella_?

"All the skaters wear it for programs, baby," JJ says, his smile looking a little weak, like it might slide right off his face.

"Not like _that_ ," she protests. "You look like a-a…"

"A whore?" Yuri supplies, grinning when Isabella jerks with surprise. She doesn't flatten herself to JJ's side like she did at the Grand Prix Final last fall, though. Yuri tries to catch JJ's eye, but the fucking idiot acts like he doesn't even see Yuri standing there. Yuri scowls.

"It's too obvious," Isabella says. "Is it too late to take it off? I have makeup remover in my bag—"

"Leave him alone, you ha—"

"Oh, Yuri-chan! I didn't see you there!" JJ says, and Yuri wonders if the reporters can tell how false he sounds. Also, Yuri _knows_ fucking JJ saw him there. Idiot.

"I think this interview is over, so sorry," Isabella says, and puts her hand on JJ's arm, turning him away from the cameras. Yuri feels something hot go through him as he glares at her hand. Her _beringed_ hand.

"He's such a bad-tempered little child," Isabella comments as she and JJ begin to walk away from Yuri. He unconsciously fists his hands at his sides. How dare JJ just _walk away_ from him? Like Yuri means nothing, all of a sudden, after all that gooey crap he throws at Yuri the rest of the time? And _not_ just when they're alone, either.

"I'm no child!" he hollers after them, but the only reaction he gets is from Isabella, who sends a dark look his way before clutching JJ even tighter, which is weird, because she wasn't hanging onto him that much for the cameras.

"Don't worry, Izzy," JJ says, rubbing her shoulder. "You know I only have eyes for you."

Just before they are out of earshot, Isabella responds,

"Do I, though? JJ, you spend _so much time_ with the other skaters… more than you do with _me_ even…"

Well, she has no idea, Yuri thinks to himself.

"Yura, did you just make an ass out of yourself during JJ's interviews?" Beka asks. Yuri flinches a little guiltily.

"He had it coming," Yuri says defensively. "Parading his stupid fiancée around like that."

"But, Yura, she _is_ his fiancée, even if you don't like it. You need to be more respectful."

Beka sounds strange to Yuri though. He tears his concentration away from JJ's retreating back and studies Beka. His eyes are a little faraway, even glassy. What the fuck is that all about?

"I don't fucking get it," Yuri says, wishing he wasn't wearing his skates so he could kick something. "Why is he even _with_ her?"

"I think you do know why," Beka says quietly. "JJ has an image to maintain, Yura. He has a lot riding on his squeaky clean persona, like his clothing line—and don't forget about his parents. I'm sure they expect a lot from him besides just doing well in competition."

"He's fucking stupid," Yuri says angrily. "He's got no business trying to fuck m-us, if he's going to run off and get married in some big church wedding. Does he even _love_ her?"

"Didn't you always know that's how this story ends? And he tells me he does. I just accept that he would know." Beka sounds distant, almost like he's reminiscing. What is going _on_ here?

"You're right, why do I even fucking care," Yuri mutters. "So why don't you tell me what's going on with you, Beka, 'cause you're acting _so_ weird."

"Not now," Beka says. He cups Yuri's elbow for a quick second, then pulls away. "Cameras everywhere, Yura. Besides, I don't want to compromise your performance."

"I'll do awesome no matter what," Yuri boasts. "I'm gonna rub JJ's nose in it when I win. I bet you Isabella isn't going to think he's all hot stuff once I _humiliate_ him."

"She didn't leave him after his colossal failure at the Grand Prix Final short program."

"Well, she should have. _I_ would have." Yuri glares at JJ, now skating laps around the rink and preparing for his program.

"You've been pretty adamant about how much you dislike JJ," Beka says. But he still seems like he's only half paying attention. "Come on. It's time to warm up."

Before Yuri can ask Beka what the hell's the matter with him again, his friend is off, stepping onto the rink and skating away.

Sighing, Yuri removes his skate guards, leaves them by the side of the rink near Yakov, and goes onto the ice himself.

But he flubs a couple of his jumps because he's distracted by Isabella rinkside, calling out JJ's name over and over. Like she's claiming him. Like she _owns_ him.

Fuck that bitch. Yuri glances at Beka just in time to see him land a quad Salchow.

Strange—there's a dark streak down one cheek. Is Beka _crying_?

&~&

**7:23 p.m., March 27**

Yuri's phone flashes with a message, the notification obscuring JJ's tattoo on his dick. Yuri, remembering the events before the short program, gets annoyed and, swiping his phone on, changes his lock screen image. His cat makes a perfectly serviceable lock screen photo.

Fuck JJ.

The message is from Yakov, a simple, yet somehow, despite the text medium, gruff reminder to go back to Viktor's room without any detours or dilly-dallying.

Fuck Yakov.

Why hasn't Beka messaged him? Yuri gnaws on his lip even as his stomach gnaws at itself with hunger. Yuri thought for sure that Beka would talk to him later, explain what's going on, but he hasn't texted any more than JJ has, not that Yuri wants to hear from _that_ fuckhead, Jesus.

Fuck Beka.

Growling angrily, Yuri crams his phone back into his pocket and stomps down the hallway towards the room he shares with Viktor. Viktor, who is likely just _waiting_ to hound Yuri about how long it's taken him to come back to the room after dinner, which is where Yuri said he was. Actually he was taking the elevators up and down between hotel floors while he tried to think.

_Fuck_ Viktor.

But when he unlocks the door, Viktor isn't there. The room is dark, deserted, with an empty water glass sitting atop the minibar.

Well, now _that_ sounds like a good idea. Yuri is just opening the minibar when his phone buzzes. He'd forgotten he put it on vibrate.

_I didn't see you at dinner_

Crap. Beka chooses _now_ to text him? But he was planning on a glorious hangover!

_I ate with Viktor_ Yuri taps out quickly. But Beka responds almost before Yuri finishes typing, as if he knew what Yuri was going to say.

_Bullshit. Viktor ate with us. Where were you??_

Yuri slams the minibar shut. His stomach is achy from refusing to eat since… crap, he doesn't actually remember when he last ate. He wasn't _exactly_ trying to starve himself—he wants to _win_ , after all. But there was the sex in the locker room, then his nap, then dinner rolled around and he felt anxious, too keyed up to eat from that scene with Beka and JJ. Even finishing the short program easily in first place hasn't buoyed his spirits.

_I'm in the room where I belong_ Yuri texts. He lifts the glass from the top of the minibar. He sniffs it—good Russian vodka. He doesn't know where Viktor got it, or how he smuggled it into China, but in minutes he's sitting on the edge of his bed, drinking some of Viktor's stash.

The problem is, he's only a few sips in and he's feeling… woozy. _Maybe it isn't a good idea to drink this on an empty stomach_ , Yuri thinks, before he sinks into a soft, comforting cocoon of darkness.

**Room 723, 8:06 p.m.**

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" Yakov rages, flapping his arms this way and that. Yuri is sitting cross-legged against the headboard of his bed, arms folded over his chest, a tray of food next to him on the bedside table.

"I dunno," Yuri replies sullenly. He's pissed off and feeling rather vengeful, because Viktor texted him six times and, when he didn't receive a response, went back to the room to find Yuri unconscious on the bed—luckily he'd fallen backwards, and not forwards onto the floor.

That would have been okay, if it had just stayed between him and Viktor—he could have bullshitted his way out of that. But no, Viktor had to get Yakov and Lilia involved, and now Yakov is blustery with anger while Lilia stands, cold and disapproving, by the door.

Viktor is in the hallway, letting Yuri's coach and choreographer have it out with him. Viktor's the one that went and ordered the food, but Yuri's nauseous now and can't stomach a bite of it.

"This is a disaster," Yakov yells. "You will eat every bite on that plate or I—"

"Okay, Yakov, that is enough," Lilia cuts in, cool and sharp and unable to be denied. Yaakov falls silent. "Yuri, what is going on? You need strength to compete, to win. Why haven't you eaten?"

"It wasn't on purpose," Yuri says, and it's only half a lie. He's been eating less deliberately, but not eating the last twenty four hours or so was more of an accident than anything.

Lilia finally sits down on the side of the bed.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on," she says. "Maybe we can—"

"I'm fine," Yuri snaps. "I just forgot."

"You forgot." Her tone conveys intense disbelief. "How do you _forget_ to eat? Weren't you _hungry_?"

Now, this is his out, Yuri realizes.

"I was training so much," Yuri says, omitting all the sex he's been having, "I guess I just didn't feel hungry. I'm sorry." He tries to look as contrite as possible, and Lilia sighs.

"Well, I will let Viktor come back in and stay with you. Please eat that—" she indicates the food on the tray "—and get some rest. You might be in first place right now, but that could change quickly during the free skate if you don't stay on top of your game."

"I'm sure I'll win gold anyway," Yuri says. He doesn't want to tell her, but his head aches and his knees feel kind of watery, like he might fall if he tries to stand up. "Goodnight, Lilia. Yakov."

Lilia sighs and leans over, running her fingers through his bangs.

"You be good now, Yuri. Goodnight." She stands up and she and Yakov head for the door, Lilia guiding Yakov away.

When Viktor comes back in, he seems disappointed.

"Yurio—" he says, but Yuri's phone chimes, and he glances from Viktor to the phone and back again. Viktor gets the hint, sighs much like Lilia did, and goes to lie down on his own bed.

_Is what I'm hearing true?_ Beka has texted. _you didn't even eat dinner? Did you eat the brunch I brought you this morning?_

Yuri can't lie to Beka, mostly because too many people can confirm it as truth. So he tries to edge around the topic, as if he can somehow keep Beka from understanding what's going on.

_i wasn't hungry. it's fine. i'm fine, beka._

_I want to see you._ Beka's reply is instant, and makes Yuri's heart kind of ache. It feels weird to feel so _wanted_ all of a sudden. Who knew that passing out from a combination of vodka and not eating could garner this much seemingly genuine concern?

Beka probably _does_ care, at least a little, even if it seemed like Yuri was upsetting him during the performances. Despite Beka's sadness, he'd placed well in the standings, and Yuri was perversely proud of that, even if _he_ wanted to win, and not anyone else.

_i've got a jailer_ Yuri sends.

_Tell Viktor I'll make sure you eat, and come to JJ's room._

_i don't want to see that dickweed_ Yuri says, fingers flying over the buttons on his phone. Then he hears a snore and realizes that Viktor, that idiot, has fallen asleep. _i'll come to your room._

_No. You need to talk to JJ._

_fuck that. i'm not moving my ass for that ass._ Yuri, contrary to what he just said, slides off the bed as quietly as he can. _tell me what's going on with you and i'll come._

_Come to JJ's room and we'll talk_ , Beka texts.

Yuri glances at the tray of food. A lot of it is rich food, and his stomach is kind of queasy from the alcohol. But he takes the crackers off the tray and stuffs them into his pocket.

Yuri sneaks out of his room for the second or third time and pads down the hallway in his socks, trying to be stealthy. He's a figure skater, and he's very slender, so he's light on his feet anyway.

JJ's door is open a crack when Yuri gets there, and he slides inside and shuts it.

Beka is lounging on JJ's bed, eyes still dark from the eyeliner, and he can hear water running in the bathroom. Good. He's still not ready to see fucking JJ.

"Eat," Beka commands, pointing to an array of food set on the dresser. "No excuses. I didn't know what you'd want or could tolerate, but you will eat until I say you can stop."

Yuri goes red. Anger flushes through him. _Fuck_ Beka.

"Who says you get to tell me what to do?" he says in a heated whisper.

"Yura, if you behave like an idiot, I'm going to treat you like one." Beka still has an aura of sadness about him, and Yuri decides that if eating will get Beka to open up, then he'll do it.

He browses the different things Beka set out for him to eat, finally selecting several different foods and beginning to nibble on them at first.

"Don't eat too fast," Beka cautions, but Yuri knows that—his stomach is definitely not clamoring for anything right now.

"Before JJ hauls his lying ass back in here," Yuri says around a mouthful of food, "you will tell me why you look sad."

"The makeup," Beka says, sounding almost evasive, but why should he be? He's never kept anything from Yuri before, when Yuri's asked. "My mother… she taught me how to apply it for competitions, but I liked the way it looked—the way _I_ looked—and it made her angry. Putting the eyeliner on JJ… it just brought back some painful memories."

"Why keep that from me? Besides, I thought you'd understand why _I_ was upset. JJ was being a fucking prick. He pretended like I wasn't even there and—"

"And what, _brat_?" JJ says nastily from the bathroom doorway. "You told the love of my life that I looked like a _whore_. Your filthy mouth is gonna get you in trouble one day, you little bitch."

"Ex _cuse_ me?" Yuri's mouth drops open. "The love…" but he chokes on the rest of the words. 

"Yura…" Beka says gently. "JJ's fragile right now, maybe you should—"

"Fragile, my fucking _ass_. He's a jackass, is what he is. The fucking love… fuck. What a fucking joke. Look, it's so not funny, I'm not laughing."

"It's not a fucking joke!" JJ yells fiercely. "I _love_ Izzy!"

"Do you?" Yuri abandons his food and clomps over to JJ, shoving his finger up into his face, wishing he were taller to really get under JJ's skin. "What the _fuck_ are you doing, then? I don't want your stupid cheating cock anymore and—"

"Oh yeah? The little bitch doesn't want me in her _vagina_ anymore?"

Yuri sputters, shoves JJ with all his strength, gratified when JJ stumbles back a step, then turns away from him. He eats the food too fast, but he's gotta get out of here.

"I'm no fucking girl," Yuri blasts JJ with his mouth full. "If you wanted fucking pussy, JJ, you already had it. No. Ask yourself why you needed my fucking ass if you loved Isabella so much. That needy, clingy tramp."

"The only tramp here is you," JJ says viciously. "I've seen what you—"

" _You_ have a fucking tramp stamp, you slimy little Jesus freak."

"All _right, enough_ ," Beka says suddenly, raising his voice. "Stop. Now."

Yuri opens his mouth, but Beka glares directly at _him_ , like it's not fucking JJ who started this whole bullshit of a situation, or Beka who demanded that Yuri meet him here, in JJ's fucking room.

"You," Beka says. "Eat that fucking food, right the fuck now, and use it to gag yourself."

Unbelievable. Yuri stuffs some food in his mouth and levels a death glare at Beka too.

"And JJ," Beka says. "Calm the fuck down. Do I have to tell you again? Tell me this, JJ, are you going to fucking cut and run away again, or stand up like a man this time?"

"I don't want to hear it," JJ says, voice now soft and wounded. "Don't say it, Otabek."

"Yura," Beka says, "JJ is struggling. He needs empathy, not anger."

"You just yelled at him yourself!" Yuri cries, overcome by the injustice of it all.

"I'm going to tell you something, Yura. Please just… try to be receptive."

"No," JJ says, looking horrified when Yuri steals a peek at him. He's holding his toothbrush, turning it over and over in his hands. "Otabek, _please_."

"JJ doesn't deal very well with being in love," Beka says, but he's staring into JJ's blue eyes. Yuri swallows his food with difficulty and takes another bite. "And he's… confused."

"I'm not confused," JJ says with a glower. "I enjoyed fucking you, but I'm marrying _Izzy_. Get used to that."

"Enjoyed?" Yuri finishes his food and stares at JJ, suddenly unsure of himself. "You mean… you're done? That's it?"

"Still wanted my cock in your pussy, kitten?" JJ says, this time the endearment coming out sarcastic and mean.

"Maybe I don't anymore," Yuri says with a frown. "What is your problem, JJ?"

"What's _yours_ , kitten?" JJ asks, but he sounds tired now. "I… I wore that eyeliner for you, Yuri."

Yuri realizes that Beka's eyes are shining suspiciously again. On the heels of that thought, he notices that JJ's washed the eyeliner off, which, against his will, seems like a shame to him. Finally, Beka says,

"I'm just jealous, Yura. JJ wants you still."

"But not you?" Yuri looks back and forth between both boys. "What the hell, JJ?"

JJ has dropped his toothbrush, his face stricken.

"I don— I do not—" JJ bends down to pick up his toothbrush. He pokes at it for a second, then makes a sad face. "It's dirty. I can't use it now."

"Use mine," Beka says, but JJ shakes his head.

"I'll go out and buy one—"

"I have a spare," Yuri says reluctantly. "I'll go get it."

"Go get some sleep," Beka says. "We'll be fine here."

They don't _look_ fine. Beka still looks like he's about to cry, and JJ's face is sharply red.

"I'm gonna whip your ass tomorrow," JJ says. "Remember that, when I win gold. It won't feel so nice looking up at me on the podium. If you even make it up there."

"If _I_ win," Yuri says, just pissed off enough—and confused enough—to finish that with a dare, "you'll fuck me and Beka again. You'll take pictures—with my phone. And then if you act like an asshole, those pictures are getting sent to Izzy."

"Fucking hell," JJ says, looking as though he's been blasted open. "You—"

"I'm not evil," Yuri says. "But I feel like, with you, I need an insurance policy. And I'm gonna get it. Because JJ, I have the pictures on my phone from other encounters. You have to do what I say."

"That's blackmail," JJ says. He still sounds utterly blindsided.

"Do you trust me?" Yuri asks, some of his anger draining away. Now that his stomach isn't clamoring for food, he feels less irritable.

"Do you really have to ask?" JJ's mouth turns down. "I've never hurt you, kitten."

"You hurt me ten minutes ago," Yuri points out.

"I know. I'm sorry. I finally ran out of patience."

"And he doesn't deal well with—" Beka begins, but JJ cuts in and says,

"Please don't." His whole face is so earnestly pleading, that Beka sighs and throws his hands up.

"Fine."

"Well, if you trust me, then you know it's not blackmail," Yuri says with dizzying logic. "I'm not going to hurt you on purpose, JJ. But—"

"Swear those pictures stay private, Yuri, and I won't stop fucking you." He sighs too. "I didn't really want to, but Izzy's been so… she's been pressing me about my vow of chastity. 'Am I still pure,' all that. I just felt so…"

"Trapped," Beka supplies. "Seriously, Yura, get back to your room before Viktor notices you're missing. I'll text you goodnight."

It isn't until Yuri is texting Beka back that he realizes Beka never said anything about going back to _his_ own room.

&~&

**Official Worlds Hotel, restaurant, 9:37 p.m., March 28**

"I can't believe you finished your program," Viktor tells Yuri as he pauses by the table Yuri is sharing with Beka and JJ. "You looked like you were going to die out there."

"It felt like it," Yuri admits crossly. "Nice of you to rag me about it."

JJ opens his mouth, and Yuri points at him with his fork. Some rice falls from the tines onto the table.

"Don't even start." He sets down the fork and frowns at his plate. The Asian honey chicken and white rice should be appealing, but Yuri can't choke it down. His whole free skate was plagued by aches, pains, and creaking joints. He can't afford to lose his figure.

"Can't I have salad?" he asks plaintively, but Beka gives him a disappointed look.

"Are you fucking _dieting_?" JJ says, blabbing like usual. Beka flashes JJ a quelling glare, but the shithead is too busy regarding Yuri with disdain.

"No," Yuri says. He pushes his abandoned rice through some cooling soy sauce. He doesn't even really like soy sauce. He wishes that, if he has to eat, he could have some of his grandpa's pork cutlet bowl pirozhkis [sp?].

"Why don't you explain it to me?" Beka asks softly, as Viktor has moved on to sit at a table with the katsudon and Chris.

JJ drops his eyes to his plate, looking especially dejected. After the fiasco of the Grand Prix Final, JJ had been telling everyone through actions, if not words, that he was going to come back better and stronger and defeat some of the top skaters in the world at Worlds.

But that hadn't happened. Something had been weighing on JJ's mind, obvious from his performance, and he hadn't even made it to the podium.

Yuri's pretty sure JJ's resentful of him for winning gold despite everything. And Yuri _knows_ it doesn't help that Christophe Giacometti won silver—and Beka medaled in bronze.

If stupid JJ hadn't self-destructed _again_ , maybe he'd be bringing home a medal. His interviews after the free skate had all been sad in tone, with Isabella on one side of him and his parents on the other.

_This must be what God wants for me right now_ , JJ had said. Yuri had made a gagging sound, and Beka had thwacked him upside the head.

Now, dinner is fucking awkward. JJ's barely touched his food because he's depressed, the king dethroned, and Beka's still mysteriously distant, and Yuri can't eat.

"You wouldn't understand," answers Yuri. Beka's face falls.

"When did you stop trusting me?" he asks. Unlike JJ and Yuri, his dinner plate is pretty much picked clean.

"I haven't!" Yuri protests. But maybe it's true. "Why don't you just pester JJ for awhile instead of me?"

"Well, you won gold," JJ says in a low voice. "So I guess that means you get your way."

"I'm not sure—"

"He doesn't get anything until he eats something," Beka interrupts. "Yura, if that isn't to your taste, order something else. I'll pay. Pick anything."

Yuri lets out a sigh and forces himself to swallow down bite after bite until at least the chicken is gone.

"All right," Beka says, tossing his napkin onto the table. "I'll get mine and Yuri's portion; JJ…"

"I got it," he says glumly.

"Yura, I'll meet you upstairs. Take JJ's keycard and wait for us in his room." Beka grabs JJ by the arm and tows him away, and Yuri's left with a half-empty stomach and a keycard to JJ's room.

&~&

**Room 726, night**

JJ's suitcase is half-open on the bed, and Yuri takes shameless advantage; he rummages amongst the haphazardly packed clothes. JJ has several t-shirts, an extra pair of jeans, and his track jacket. Yuri wrinkles his nose at the crucifix lying at the bottom of the case and thinks about taking it out of there. Maybe he could leave it underneath one of the beds; he'd never tell JJ what happened to it, so JJ wouldn't kill him.

Fuck JJ and his fucking religion, with all its stupid rituals that probably don't do shit anyway. JJ never even mentioned it to Yuri before and now all of a sudden he can't shut up about it? Yuri balls his hand into a fist and wishes he could punch Jesus in the face. The Bible tucked into the bottom corner makes Yuri even _more_ irrationally angry. He doesn't even know why, or at least he didn't until he picks it up and flips it open. JJ's name is handwritten on the flyleaf, and beneath it is a little rounded, girly heart followed by a signature. Isabella Yang.

Yuri's fisted the page in his hand before his rational brain catches up. The thin, fragile paper rips and Yuri finds himself staring at it in horror. Quickly, he straightens out the paper as best he can, slams the Bible shut, and shoves it back in the suitcase.

That stupid bitch is even writing her name in JJ's things.

JJ, unlike Yuri, probably never runs out of underwear while away at competitions; he's got about twelve pairs squirrelled away at the bottom of the suitcase. This, Yuri can use; he grabs a pair of red boxer briefs—maybe even the infamous ones from the photo shoot—and swipes them.

A brilliant yet terrible thought occurs to him, and Yuri takes another pair of JJ's underwear and a permanent marker from the bedside table, scrawls his name on the ass in large letters, then folds them up carefully and stashes them beneath everything else in the suitcase.

He's just in time, because he can hear the sound of JJ's and Beka's voices out in the hall. Quickly shoving the red boxer briefs into the pocket of his jacket, Yuri takes it off and balls it up around the stolen undies. Then he throws himself on the nearest bed and pretends to be reading a magazine JJ—or Beka—left on it.

"He's being a little bitch," Yuri hears JJ say through the door.

"Doesn't mean you have to join him," Beka replies, words almost too soft to make out. Then the door lock beeps and they enter the room.

"I'm not the one who's suddenly a Jesus freak," Yuri immediately flings at JJ, forgetting about the magazine because he's boiling with anger now.

"Watch your mouth, or I'll wash it out with soap," JJ threatens. "You _will_ be respectful or—"

"Or what? You really think you can boss me around? You're so pussy-whipped it's a miracle you still stand up to pee. Or _do_ you?"

"You fucking little punk—"

"Cool it, the both of you," Beka thunders. Yuri's so surprised to hear him raise his voice he winds up just staring at Beka in shock with his mouth open, mid-insult. "You both need to apologize and get over your shit." Beka's face is actually _angry_ , but Yuri doesn't care.

"I'm going back to the room with Viktor," Yuri says. "Fuck you, JJ. If you want to go deep sea fishing, you might as well forget about fucking me anymore."

Yuri grabs his jacket, flings himself onto the floor, and storms out of the room.

&~&

**Room 726, around midnight**

Yuri realizes after Viktor's gone to bed that he still has JJ's keycard. He debates keeping it so JJ gets charged for the extra room key, but eventually decides he can just slip it under the door and it's not like he still has to _see_ JJ.

When he gets there, though, he can hear noises coming from within—like _sex_ noises.

Angry that JJ's lying about things with Isabella—he's obviously screwing her after all—Yuri unlocks the door during a particularly loud moan and pushes it inward silently.

He doesn't realize he's crying until a tear drips into his mouth; JJ is lying on the bed, his knees spread wide open, his body arching off the mattress so that he can get closer to the person he's fucking.

It's not Isabella.

It's Beka.

Yuri doesn't understand. It's not for him—it can't be, he cut JJ loose. Why would Beka screw JJ though? It doesn't make any sense. He doesn't know what he's doing anymore, as he sits down suddenly on the floor. The two of them on the bed are so caught up in what they're doing that they don't even notice Yuri.

Though he doesn't know why, Yuri winds up watching them. The way JJ's knee presses into Beka's side. The catch of their mouths on each other's. The way JJ's ass muscles flex every time Beka bottoms out inside him; or the kisses Beka leaves on any exposed skin he can reach.

How long has this been going on? Yuri's terribly confused. Beka said, _JJ wants you still_ , like somehow there was a secret message there, but Yuri is too confounded to decode it.

He couldn't then, and he can't now, stupefied as he is by the sight of Beka and JJ fucking each other without any discernable reason why. Maybe JJ's just horny, without being able to fuck his _girlfriend_?

But why would Beka go along with that? Neither JJ or Beka texted Yuri after he flounced out of the room, and while Yuri supposes he can understand why _JJ_ didn't, he doesn't get why Beka wouldn't. All this time, Beka's been playing peacemaker every time JJ was obnoxious or Yuri swiped at him with his claws out. Now, this time Beka doesn't say anything? He just gives in and fucks JJ?

Fucking JJ. He's not a king—just a joker with a taste for cock who can't admit it.

"You both fucking suck!" Yuri yells, and flings the keycard towards them. It bounces harmlessly off Beka's naked ass and Yuri, just before he whirls around and runs down the hall, catches sight of JJ's face.

Waxy and stricken, like his worst nightmare is coming true.

&~&

**Room 723, after midnight**

Viktor's still asleep when Yuri gets back—he's literally the worst chaperone ever—and he flops facedown onto his bed, tears gluing his cheek to the pillow.

He lies that way for as long as he can before he needs to breathe, and rolls over gasping. His phone chimes, and Yuri fumbles for it, turning it over. It's a message from Beka.

_it's not what you think, Yura. Please come back and we'll talk._

_why the fuck should i?_ Yuri's not even sure why he's answering. He's still so mad his damn teeth even hurt. He stabs his finger into the phone, trying to make the message screen go away, when a new one pops up.

_JJ's crying, Yura. He needs to see you._

_i thought JJ was waiting for marriage?_ Yuri texts back furiously, even more upset that his snide tone won't translate through the written words. And then his stomach, unsettled by his emotions and the extra food he's not used to eating anymore, rebels.

Yuri tosses the phone aside and makes a mad dash for the bathroom, which is where Viktor finds him a few minutes later.

"You okay, Yurio?" Viktor asks, standing in the doorway in his pajama pants, bare chest glistening lightly with sweat.

Yuri is sitting in front of the bathtub with his legs stretched out, stomach aching. He thought he was going to be sick, but nothing happened, and he's too tired and heartsick to get up.

"I'm fine," Yuri lies, but Viktor's brow creases. Yuri pokes himself in the thigh, watching the skin go white around his fingertip. He's wearing only the shorts he went to bed in, and it only now occurs to him that he went all the way to JJ's room—which admittedly, wasn't far—half-undressed.

"I can see that's not the case," Viktor says. "What have you done now?"

Yuri bristles, taking exception to the idea that _he's_ the one that did something.

"It wasn't me," he says angrily, and before he considers carefully what he's about to say next, he's blurted out: "Beka was fucking JJ."

Viktor blinks slowly. Then he shakes his head, blond hair swishing in front of his face. His blue-green eyes are still sleepy, but also way too sharp and perceptive.

"How did that make you feel?" Viktor asks. "Do you need something for tummy upset? I might have something in my bag."

Yuri wonders if he means the vodka, but then again, Viktor probably has all sorts of stuff because of the katsudon's nerves.

"No," Yuri says, "My stomach is easing up. I think maybe it was just the initial shock." It's true, too; the aches and cramps are subsiding. Yuri gets to his feet and goes to the sink, splashing water on his face. It drips from the ends of his hair.

"Hang on," Viktor says. "I'll be right back." He closes the bathroom door, and Yuri sits on the edge of the tub, wondering why Viktor needed to leave him in the bathroom.

His confusion clears when the door opens and the piggy is standing there.

"Hey, Yurio," he says, and Yuri wants to slam the door shut in his face, but obviously Katsudon expects that, because his foot is blocking the jamb. "Viktor was feeling out of his depth, so—"

"I don't need _you_!" Yuri snarls. "You don't know anything."

"You might be surprised," Yuuri says mildly. "Why don't you tell me why you're upset that Otabek might sleep with JJ when they're alone together."

He's going to _kill_ Viktor.

"I don't need a shrink," Yuri says, crossing his arms over his chest. "But, okay, fine. They are—" He stops. Shit.

"Yurio," Katsudon says. "Do you even _realize_ that this is a relationship?"

"It isn't," Yuri protests. "It was supposed to be just fun. But it isn't fun anymore."

"Because your feelings got involved," Yuuri tells him gently. "Also, Yurio, any connection between people is a kind of relationship. Even if it's not romantic." He goes silent and lets it draw out long, watching Yuri.

Yuri, for his part, is trying to hide in his hair. It _isn't_ romantic. Is it?

"Fine, maybe I like Beka," Yuri admits out loud, finally. "But JJ's just a giant asshole. He's always so mean to me!"

"You sound like a little kid on the playground," Yuuri says. "Have you forgotten you're sixteen?"

"I'm still a kid," Yuri says, frowning.

"Then you shouldn't be fucking _anyone_ ," the piggy says with failed logic.

"I don't know what you're even doing here," Yuri grumps. "You're not helping."

"I think you should talk to them," the katsudon reasons. "Relationships are hard work, Yurio. Running away doesn't solve anything. You need to _communicate_."

"Oh, yeah? Did Viktor tell you he's fucking _Chris_?" Yuri hurls at him.

Yuuri looks surprised, but not upset or angry.

"Huh, is that why there was a silver medal in his bed this afternoon?"

Yuri opens and closes his mouth, unable to think of a word to say.

"Y-you were in our room? Today?" he finally manages. Yuuri smiles. That's right—Yuri forgot. Yuuri injured his ankle in warmups at the beginning of the competition and had to drop out. Crap. He actually feels… bad. Huh.

"It's of no consequence, Yurio. Yes, I knew about Chris. Viktor and I have an arrangement. Once we get married, he understands that I have to come first. But we both like Chris so much—"

"Ugh, God, no! No details!" Yuri sticks out his tongue and fakes gagging. "You're sick!"

This provokes the first reaction from the katsudon that isn't calm.

"Heavens, Yurio, are you _homophobic_?"

"N-no," Yuri says, but uncertainly. At least, he doesn't think so. "But you…"

"How is sleeping with both Viktor and Chris any different than you sleeping with both Otabek and JJ?"

"They're not supposed to fuck each other without me," Yuri whines. "I thought that we were… I don't know. But JJ obviously asked Beka to fuck his brains out, and it pisses me off! He's over there flaunting his stupid fiancee, and then he spreads his legs for Beka? What the fuck!"

"Listen, Yurio, tomorrow is an early flight home for all of us. There probably isn't time to have this conversation tonight, but when you get back to St. Petersburg, you need to call both Otabek _and_ JJ and apologize."

"Why the fuck do _I_ need to apologize?!" Yuri gasps, incensed. "I'm not the one who—"

"Haven't you been verbally abusing JJ?" that fat pig asks. Yuri grinds his teeth. Fucking Katsudon! He just doesn't get it.

"JJ deserves it," Yuri grumbles. "I told you, that sickening display with—"

"Yuri Plisetsky," the piggy says, "that is his fiancee. If you want him to be with you—to choose you over her—you have to figure out how you feel and what you want from him. You also need to remember that JJ's religion prohibits same-sex lovers and relationships. JJ probably feels guilty, and conflicted—torn between his desire for you and his need to be "right" with his God. Couldn't you _try_ to be more tolerant?"

"I don't want JJ," Yuri says, stomach jumping in his middle. "I _don't_. But he— And then Beka." Yuri is ashamed of the tears that threaten.

"Then you know what you want," Yuuri says, but he sounds disappointed, like Yuri just failed a test. "Regardless, it isn't right to shower JJ with epithets because he wants to be a good Christian. Yuri, if you—"

"Just go to bed, Katsudon," Yuri says tiredly. "I'm gonna turn in."

"Okay. Remember what I said, Yurio." The piggy straightens up and leaves, and after five or so minutes, Yuri emerges from the bathroom.

He still feels bruised and broken, and Viktor's on his phone, wearing only his customary thong now, and Yuri realizes it's gotten quite warm in the room.

He's not really proud of it, but he's angry, and this is way to exact revenge on everyone, so he sidles up to Viktor's side, hopping up onto the bed, and ghosting his fingers down along Viktor's ribs. He's decided maybe he won't kill Viktor after all—this will punish him nicely, too.

Viktor drops his phone onto the carpet, where it bounces once, and his green-blue eyes are wide and uneasy as he regards Yuri.

"Yurio? What are you—"

But Yuri doesn't want to talk; he doesn't want Viktor to remind him that this is wrong. Yuri knows it's the wrong thing to do, that it won't change anything or fix anything, but he doesn't care. Viktor's hot, Yuri's desperate; it all adds up to a kiss that Yuri practically _hits_ Viktor with: lips crashing together, silencing Viktor's questions with the assault.

Viktor's hands come out, and Yuri's afraid he's going to push him away, but instead his hands fist in Yuri's shirt at the shoulders, and he gentles Yuri, softening the kiss until they're just lazily touching tongues together, and Yuri can feel some of the rage dissipate. His hands are suddenly frantic against Viktor's bare skin, trying to touch everywhere at once.

Viktor's giving tacit permission, and Yuri can't believe it, desperate to get himself all over Viktor. He breaks the kiss, rubbing his nose and cheeks against Viktor's chest, tongue flicking out to taste Viktor's nipple.

Viktor gasps and his hips arch upward, his cock hard and straining the thong. Yuri didn't think anything could be hotter than Beka naked or even JJ's tattoos, but somehow the way Viktor's dick fills out the front of the thong, the crown just peeking over the edge of the elastic, is the hottest thing ever to Yuri right now.

So he drags his lips over Viktor's sweaty skin even as his hand snakes down into Viktor's thong and wraps around Viktor's hot, heavy cock.

"Yurio," Viktor says on a soft, lingering sigh. "Yes, touch me."

"I wanna fuck you," Yuri pants, unable to draw a full breath. His body feels like it's turning itself inside out with arousal. He jacks Viktor for a few seconds, then pushes him backward.

"Don't move," Yuri commands, and strips the thong off, yanking it down each thigh and calf. He's almost distracted by the thick, strong thighs, the way they're soft on the inner part, and the muscles of Viktor's calves, but after stroking down his legs a few times, Yuri gets up.

He comes back with lube from his own stuff and drops it on the bed, then yanks his own shorts down, rips his shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

"Look at me," he demands, and Viktor's blue-green eyes are hot, gaze trailing fire along the nerves of Yuri's cock. "Do you like what you see? Do you, Viktor?"

"I wanna feel you, Yurio, not watch you."

Well.

Yuri slicks his cock up with lube and presses against Viktor's entrance.

"Tell me if it hurts," he says at the last second, before he sucks in a breath and jackhammers his hips forward, filling Viktor completely with one smooth thrust.

Viktor's breath leaves him in a whoosh, a sudden red flush racing down his chest, startling against his pale skin, but he lifts his hips.

"Put a pillow under me," he says breathlessly. "It'll be easier."

Yuri can't find a pillow fast enough, just Viktor's pajama pants and Yuri's own shirt, so he jams them under Viktor's ass. Viktor's right; it steepens the angle in a way, causing Yuri to slide in even deeper.

" _Fuck_ ," Yuri growls, putting his hands on Viktor's hips and digging his fingers in as hard as he can to hang on. His body knows what to do, though, and pretty soon he has a good rhythm going, pounding in and out of Viktor's throbbing hole while Viktor keeps arching off the bed to meet him thrust for thrust. It's so tight, so silky, Yuri can't help but marvel at it. Is this what it feels like inside him?

Before Yuri even knows what's happening, he's grinding down deep into Viktor, hitting something that makes Viktor practically scream as Yuri feels his body go tight.

Yuri can't quite get _there_ , so he reaches behind him and quirks a finger inside his own ass, gasping, his neck muscles straining, as he spills inside Viktor's body. Too late he realizes that, in his desperation and anger, he broke his promise to Beka and JJ and fucked Viktor without a condom on.

Oh well.

Viktor's hands scrabble over his back—reminding him that he's still panting and balls deep inside Viktor—leaving deep furrows in his flesh as he explodes between them, jizz showering Yuri.

"You didn't last very long," Viktor comments as Yuri pulls out, flopping onto the bed. "Was I your first time, Yurio?"

Crap. Yuri just… oh no. Oh, God. He's going to…

"It shouldn't have happened," Yuri says miserably. Too late, also, he's awakening to the possibility that maybe _he's_ the asshole.

"I gotta—" but Yuri doesn't know what to say. He grabs a corner of the sheet, wiping at the spunk on Viktor's velvet skin, then gets to his feet. "Please don't…"

"Relax, Yurio, I'm not going to say anything. I understand you needed something and I was happy to provide it."

"But you don't even like me," Yuri says glumly.

"I love you, Yurio, but not as a lover, that's true," Viktor says quietly. "And you might want to work on your technique before you—"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's over," Yuri says. He lies down naked on his own bed. "I guess we better sleep," he adds, hoping Viktor won't say anything else and remind him of what he's done.

He can remind himself just fine, and that keeps him awake until nearly morning.

&~&

**Official Worlds Hotel Lobby, 7 a.m., preparing to go home**

Yuri might be the only person who knows why everyone from the competition milling around the lobby is so red-eyed and quiet, refusing to [eat each other's eyes ← best typo ever? Lol] meet each other's eyes. Beka and JJ are huddled together, and JJ's eyes are swollen, his lips incredibly red too, and Yuri's too enraged still to care that he looks like he didn't sleep at all.

That maybe he cried onto Beka's naked skin all night. Stupid fucking _whore_. Yuri wonders what his God thinks about _that_. Oddly, he doesn't see Isabella anywhere.

Maybe she's in the bathroom or something. Yuri gives JJ the stink eye and refuses to even look at Beka right now. It's all wrong, everything. This is totally wrong. Beka's supposed to be _his_.

Beka always claimed to care about Yuri, but now he's over there comforting fucking JJ. The shithead bastard fuckwad.

Yuri doesn't understand why thinking about JJ makes his heart beat too fast, or his eyes water. He must be allergic to something—like maybe those plants over there?

Viktor is sunny, hands all over Yuuri and his eyes all over Chris, and Yuri revises his earlier assessment: it's just the three of them, Beka, JJ, and Yuri himself, who look so goddamned miserable.

And Yuri has a terrible sinking feeling that it's his fault.

He feels even worse when Isabella steps out of the elevator. She runs straight to JJ, who as soon as he saw her, had jerked away from Beka.

"JJ, darling! Did you read your daily meditation this morning?" she asks, and Yuri scowls. She's loud enough for the whole lobby to hear, though the staff and many of the other skaters are acting as if they aren't listening.

"I, uh, was going to do it on the flight home," JJ says uneasily. "Um, angel, did you use my Bible yesterday?"

"No, love, I didn't," Isabella says, suddenly all concern. Yuri wants to puke at the stupid pet names. "Why?"

"The first page is all torn," JJ says, mouth turned down. Yuri's not sure he's ever seen him so depressed. Fucker deserves it, in Yuri's opinion.

His stomach turns, and he wonders if he's hungry. When did he last eat? Crap, if Yakov and Lilia—standing over there, fuck—notice he didn't eat breakfast he's going to be in so much shit.

"How—? JJ, _I_ gave you that Bible! Why weren't you more careful with it? You have to know I wouldn't have damaged it!"

Yuri realizes he's just staring at the tableau unfolding in front of him, mouth slightly parted. Guang Hong and Leo, standing very close together, are also staring, which makes Yuri feel less conspicuous about his own inability to look away.

"I know, I'm so sorry, Izzy! I don't know what—" JJ's eyes land on Yuri. He flushes and the sadness vanishes, shifting to anger.

Well, he didn't do it on purpose. Yuri levels a glare at him, and when Isabella follows his gaze, she turns a glare onto Yuri that would melt glass.

She's clearly still mad about the verbal altercation they had at the rink, where Yuri opened his stupid fat mouth when he would have been better off keeping it shut.

"Come on, JJ, let's go. I think our taxi's here."

JJ touches her arm, offering her a weak, watery smile.

"Are you upset about not medalling? Don't be sad, love, you'll always be _my_ king." She offers Yuri a tight smile, then drags JJ out the door.

Yuri's tempted to run after them. He'd probably smack Isabella across the face, though, and he's pretty sure Lilia would skin him alive if he hit a girl. So he stomps over to Beka, his darkest glower in place, the one he uses to keep his man-eating fangirls away, and jabs Beka in the chest.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demands, and Beka frowns.

"I don't know what you're so upset about, Yuri, you broke up with us." Beka's voice is steady, almost monotone. "Aren't you done making a fool out of yourself, Yuri?"

"Me?" Yuri can't help it, he stomps his foot. "You're right, _Otabek_ , I hope you choke on his dick the next time you blow him."

"There won't be a next time," Beka says distantly. "JJ broke up with me, too."

Jesus. No wonder he looked like he sobbed all night long. A twinge runs through him, and he doesn't understand why.

"Anyway, Yura, my taxi's here too. I'll talk to you when I get home."

Yuri watches in rapt disbelief as Beka walks away from him. There's a moment of cold in his chest, and Yuri steps towards the door, but Yakov and Lilia are still chatting with the concierge, so he finds a chair and plops into it.

But the katsudon is making his way over to him, and he doesn't look happy.

"Yurio, what the fuck did you do?" he asks, gesturing to Viktor. "He looks awfully _happy_ , if you catch my drift."

"I—" Yuri peers up at Yuuri. "It's nothing," he says lamely.

"Listen up, Yurio. Just because I told you what I did about my relationship, and how it affects Viktor, Chris, and me, does _not_ mean you could do what you did."

"But— How?" Yuri steals a peek at Viktor.

"He set you up," the katsudon says. "He was talking to me on the phone when you—uh— _seduced_ him. Didn't you think he gave in a little too easily?"

"But why the fuck would he do that?" Yuri asks, stupidly.

"Maybe to teach you a lesson? I don't know. You'd have to ask him. Except, right now, Yurio, stay the fuck away from my fiance." Yuuri stalks off and before Yuri can take a deep breath, Lilia is striding over.

"Move along, Yurochka, our flight leaves in an hour. We're late."

Which is how Yuri finds himself flying home to St. Petersburg with only the cold comfort of a gold medal.


	8. Chapter 8

**St. Petersburg, Russia, Yuri's bedroom, March 31, 2015**

Yuri's only been back home for a day and a half, and thus far, either Yakov or Lilia has stood directly over him—well, sat at the same table—to make sure he's eaten everything they've put in front of him. He's hated every second of that: practice this morning was again muscles feeling like they've stretched too far, joints sore and swollen.

Lilia went easy on him, seeming to understand that he was suffering and unable to reach the same levels of flexibility as before.

Now Yuri's surfing the internet, reading Instagram, and hating every post by JJ. JJ's back in Canada, and his Instagram is all photos of him and Isabella, half of them the standard selfie "kissy face" and about a third of them either JJ kissing Isabella on the cheek or her kissing _his_ cheek.

There's one picture of JJ and Isabella sharing a kiss on the lips, and that makes Yuri want to smash his phone to pieces.

It's a combination of JJ's awful, mushy Instagram posts and Yuri's lack of hunger pangs that does it. He closes Instagram—no posts from Beka, which worries Yuri—and starts playing a word game.

The problem is, Beka hasn't taken a turn in days. It's a constant reminder, the soreness like the ache of a bad tooth, that Beka's feeling out of sorts.

While he plays a word, his mind is whirring in the background like a forgotten machine, and Yuri blinks, and for a split second he pictures JJ's face.

But the anger isn't… anger anymore. Even those pictures with Isabella didn't make him _angry_ , reflecting on it now—no, they made him _sad_.

"What the fuck!" Yuri says; _now_ he's angry. "Why should I be _sad_? He made his choice! And besides I don't even li…" but he trails off.

Yuri imagines what it might have been like for JJ to tell Isabella to fuck off, to tell Yuri one more time that he liked him. Even all those times he called Yuri "kitten" start to seem coated in sadness, like maybe Yuri actually…

"I don't believe it," Yuri says. He looks at his hands, turning them over and examining them. "Who am I?" Then he does the only thing that makes sense: he calls Beka.

Maybe it's stupid, and it's not like Beka was exactly _happy_ with him, but Yuri doesn't know what else to do. He feels like all of his insides have been ripped out and replaced with jelly.

When the phone rings for the sixth time, Yuri's about to hang up when Beka answers. The video stutters then clarifies, and Beka's standing in front of his bed, his hair stuck to his forehead and his chest bare. Yuri can't see his lower half, but he can feel himself actually _blush_. Like he hasn't seen Beka naked a million times by now!

"What's up, Yura? I ran out of the shower to get the phone. Is it important, or can I call you back?"

"Of _course_ it's important!" Yuri cries. "Would I just call for no reason?"

There's an expression on Beka's face that suggests that yes, that is exactly something Yuri would do. Well, what the fuck ever.

"Okay, well, I'm just gonna get dressed while you talk, all right?"

"Fine, whatever," Yuri says. "I had a terrible thought, Beka. What if I _like_ JJ?"

"You mean, as more than a friend?"

It's on the tip of Yuri's tongue to deny that he and JJ are friends, but… the only one ever denying they were friends this whole time was Yuri. JJ kept saying he liked Yuri, but Yuri hadn't _wanted_ his friendship. He'd had eyes for only Beka—but Beka seemed to get over his dislike of JJ pretty quickly, now that Yuri considers things.

"I just. Beka… when did you start _liking_ JJ?" Yuri asks.

"Let's talk about why you called first, then we can discuss me, okay?" Beka wipes his face with a towel.

"Yeah. I guess… I didn't think I liked JJ _at all_. What am I going to do?"

"I don't know how to help you, Yura. You might have to reach out to him."

"Have you _seen_ his Instagram?" Yuri yells, then quickly lowers his voice—he doesn't want Lilia or Yakov to hear him.

"No, I unfollowed him," Beka says quietly. "Yura…"

But now Yuri's just getting wound up, and he can't bring himself to stop.

"Oh my God, Beka, I think I like _boys_." Yuri can't believe his own admission. Did that honestly just come out of his own mouth?

"You've been fucking me and JJ for _how_ long?" Beka asks incredulously.

"Yes, but, Beka! Now I have _feelings_. That makes it so much gayer!" Yuri covers his face with his hands.

"Feelings aren't a bad thing," Beka tries, but Yuri can't properly convey his horror.

"Oh my God, I think I _do_ like _JJ_!" Yuri grabs a corner of his pillow and bites it. Hard. "What do I _do_ , Beka? How do I _stop_?"

"You can't," Beka says in a resigned tone. "There's no easy fix for liking someone, Yura. You just go on, and keep going on, until one day those feelings hopefully fade enough to ignore them."

"Because… oh." Yuri squeezes the pillow in his arms. There's a soft "mrow" from his floor, and then his kitty Potya is leaping onto the bed. Yuri abandons the pillow for cuddling his cat. "You mean because JJ's moved on—without me."

"Yes." Beka takes a deep breath. "I need to confess something, Yura. It's really not only my secret, but the other parties are… absent… so I just. Please just listen."

"That sounds ominous," Yuri says slowly. "I'll do my best."

"When I was training with JJ… uh. You know how he taught me the quad salchow?"

"Yeah?"

"Skating moves aren't all we taught each other." Beka finishes pulling his jeans on, his eyes suspiciously bright. Like he might be on the verge of crying. "He was my first… well, I didn't _love_ JJ, not back then, but I cared—a lot—and we uh, messed around."

"You _what_?" Yuri blurts.

"We had sex," Beka says bluntly. "I lost my virginity to JJ. And as far as I know, I took his. For a couple of months, all we could do was think about each other, and have sex. I learned to give a blowjob on JJ. He discovered he liked pain when I fucked him the first time and it hurt, he was so tight. But he blew his load all over me practically before I even got inside." Beka gulps.

"You…?" Yuri can't quite accept what he's hearing. "I never would have thought—Beka, you acted like you hated him too!"

"I didn't hate him, Yura, but there was a reason I acted as if I didn't _like_ him, and that's because he shattered my heart. He was the first person I ever cared about that way, and three months after we started training, he met Izzy. He came to me and confessed that his religion said any man who slept with another man was going to hell, and he told me he was going to go out with Izzy." A tear escapes, but Beka bats it away angrily.

"She was _hugely_ into religion, and she started taking him to church with her. They started reciting Bible verses out loud to each other—in front of me. It hurt so bad, Yura. I swore I would never let myself be vulnerable like that again. And then he told her, in my hearing, that he was a virgin and he would gladly wait for her, and that was the end of things. I mean, things were _over_ long before that, but I think I still… hoped, at least until he lied to her. In one breath he was all religious, but he was lying to her with his next breath."

"But I thought…" Yuri furrows his brow in confusion. "How did I not know about his religion then?"

"I don't have an answer for why JJ would start messing around with boys again, but this thing with Isabella? He's done it before. To me. He started avoiding me, calling me names. Then I moved back to Almaty and hoped JJ would never acknowledge me again."

"He hurt you that bad?" Yuri asks, then feels kinda bad for asking. Beka definitely looks uncomfortable.

"This thing between the three of us, Yura, it dredged up all those old feelings. I fell for him all over again—and this time those feelings went even deeper. But this is the _last_ time. I'm not going to be screwed over by JJ _again_. But… I shouldn't probably say this, but Yura: JJ's in love with you. He was never _in love_ with me; but when you caught us fucking, it was because JJ was upset. About you." Beka starts quietly crying.

Yuri thinks this might be the most he's ever heard Beka say. Cumulatively. He nods, though, unwilling to interrupt now.

"JJ begged me to fuck him, and I agreed because I was… because _this_ time, I did fall in love. I just wanted to feel him against me. To touch him one last time, if that's what happened."

"And he broke up with you?" Yuri asks in disbelief.

"With _both_ of us, really," Beka says, wiping away the tears. Yuri's cat meows and rubs his head along the underside of Yuri's jaw. "I mean, I guess you did that yourself too… Yura, look. I don't know if JJ would have left if you hadn't misunderstood what was happening."

"What was there to misunderstand? You were _fucking_ him, behind my back!"

"And I had done it before. What was the difference?"

Yuri opens his mouth, but other than catching a cat hair on his tongue, his mouth is empty of words. He shakes his head, feeling ashamed all of a sudden.

He's always thought that he and Beka were best friends, and that he would never hurt Beka, but now he finds out that Beka's in love with JJ…

"Beka? Do you love _me_?" Yuri asks, feeling very small. How strange, to feel suddenly so jealous of _JJ_ —who's currently running down a road that will destroy him.

"Yura—" Beka begins, but pauses for a second; the camera shakes and refocuses more towards Beka's window. Before Beka can go on, Yuri gasps.

"Are you _cheating_ on me?" Yuri blurts.

"What? No! Why? Wait a second—Yura, we aren't dating. According to you, we never were." Beka's mouth is turned down now, and he looks even sadder than he did before, when he answered the phone, or even when he was crying over JJ, that rat bastard.

"But—" Yuri strokes the kitty's fur absently, and he purrs loudly. " _Why_ are there panties hanging off your radiator, Beka, if you're not fucking some girl?"

Beka goes so red Yuri thinks he might catch fire. He moves the phone camera, but it's too late—Yuri already saw them. They were red and lacy, and actually… huge.

"I'm gonna tell you something, Yura, but this can't go anywhere besides the two of us, do you understand?"

"Why? What's going on? Beka… you're not getting married too, are you?" Yuri accidentally squishes his cat too much and he meows indignantly and claws at Yuri's arms. "Dammit! Potya!"

The cat jumps out of his arms and stalks to the end of the bed, where he sits on his haunches and starts to clean his paw with his tongue.

"You should put some medicine on those—" Beka says, gesturing to the kitty scratches as he slips his arms into a sleeveless t-shirt.

"Never mind that," Yuri says impatiently, "tell me what's going on, Beka!"

"I like wearing makeup, remember?"

"Yeah, so?" Yuri eyes his cat, wondering if Potya will come back and cuddle if Yuri sneaks up on him and picks him up.

"I like… this isn't easy to say. When I started wearing the makeup… No. I should start with this. My mother hated the makeup, but not that in and of itself. No, she hated it because she caught me playing dress up in her clothes."

Beka stops, and stares at Yuri. Waiting.

"You—those are _yours_?" Yuri asks, feeling suddenly weird. His stomach grumbles, but he doesn't think he's hungry. Lilia made him a huge lunch and insisted he eat every last bite. His grandpa's been sending over pirozhkis every day, too.

"Yes," Beka says simply. "There was one whole week after JJ had just met Izzy that he begged me to wear it—the clothes, the makeup, shoes—around town in case we ran into her. He was so gone for her right away. And I did it. But even though I hated living a lie, I liked the rest of it. The way the panties felt. The clothes, the shoes."

"That's… fucking weird," Yuri explodes. Beka shrugs.

"It is what it is," he says. "Yura, I might as well tell you this now too: I'm gay. I mean, truly, honestly, I only like sleeping with boys. And if that doesn't freak you out too bad, yes, I love you."

Yuri knows it's the wrong reaction, but he can't help it.

"That's sick," he says. "I didn't—"

"How _did_ you want me to love you, Yura?" Beka asks curiously, as if he has no stake in the answer.

"I just thought… Beka, I'm not gay. I'm never gonna feel like that about _you_. I don't… I mean, I do have feelings for JJ, I guess, but it's not _love_ , and it won't ever be." He pounces on his cat, who mrows loudly in protest. "I gotta go, Beka, I'll talk to you… soon."

Beka must be able to hear the hesitation there, but he doesn't try to force Yuri to stay.

"Okay, Yura, I'll see you."

Yuri hangs up. _He's_ not gay, so why does he feel so fucking anxious?

&~&

**A cheap Russian motel, April 2, 4:43 p.m.**

"What was your name again?" Yuri asks, as he pockets the key to the room. The girl—one of his Angels—giggles and twirls her ponytail. Yuri is wearing his hair back in a ponytail too. He wonders, briefly, if that's weird, then shrugs off the thought. Yuri closes the door and hopes no one saw them. He's wearing sunglasses and not a speck of leopard print on him anywhere. He thinks that ought to keep them off his trail.

"Masha," she says. "Holy crap, I can't believe I'm standing in a room with the _real_ Yuri Plisetsky!"

"Don't you dare forget, if you breathe a word of this meeting to anyone, I will ruin you." Yuri knows that Leo de la Iglesia would be able to dig up any possible dirt on this girl, and he can definitely make good on that threat—let's call it a _promise_.

"God, not even my best of the best friend?" she asks, slipping out of her jacket. For a girl, she's pretty; she's one of any number of attractive Russian females. Her chest is on the small side, but her hips are trim and her thighs are somewhat muscular—if he had to guess, she's a dancer, or was.

"You wanna do this or not?" Yuri asks, trying not to growl at her. He doesn't want to frighten her away, after all; this is going to _prove_ he's not gay, not like Beka. That's the whole reason why he's in this sleazy cheap motel in the first place—and with one of these stupid bitches. He doesn't even _like_ his fangirls, but that was the easiest kind of chick to pick up.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I won't tell."

"How old are you?" Yuri asks curiously, not because he particularly cares if she's underage, but because he wants to know if she's older than he is.

"Fifteen," she replies, lifting one shoulder. "I hope that's not a problem?"

"No," Yuri answers shortly. "Did you bring condoms? I think I have one in my wallet if you didn't."

"I've got some," Masha says. "So you're gonna do it, then? You're really gonna fuck me?"

"Yeah." Yuri removes his own jacket. "Unless you change your mind, I guess."

"No, but on my deathbed, can I tell people I slept with the famous figure skater Yuri Plisetsky?"

"Fine, I guess," Yuri grumbles. "Unless you die in a week. Take off the rest of your clothes."

"Kay," she says, offering him a smile like it's a gift he ought to unwrap. He ignores her stupid smile; it reminds him of the way fucking JJ always fucking _grinned_ at him right before they engaged in some kind of sex.

Masha pulls her sweater over her head, and she's got a white bra with lavender polka dots on underneath. Yuri is surprised when she shoves her jeans down and her panties match. He didn't know that was a thing—against his will, he thinks about Beka and wonders if Beka knows girls' underwear can match. He bets that Beka does.

"Do you wanna take the rest of it off?" Masha asks, gesturing to the matching underwear. Yuri shakes his head.

"Nah, you can do it. I don't know how—those hooks, and er, things?" Yuri can feel himself blushing and kinda wants to punch something. He can't let this stupid fangirl know he's never done this with a girl before. That before JJ literally walked in, he was still a virgin. He supposes at least he has some experience now with that encounter with Viktor, so he knows basically what to do.

"All right," she says agreeably, reaching behind her back. The bra suddenly loosens, dipping low in front. Masha slips her arms out of the straps—seriously, those things look like fucking torture devices—and tosses the bra on the bed.

Yuri studies her; she has tits that look like they might be just a size or two smaller than his hands, and her nipples are round and… soft? He didn't know that was possible? They are a light pink color, complementing her skin tone. As he stares at her, her nipples contract, becoming hard little points. They make Yuri think her tits are staring back. Fuck, that's weird. He's never had that thought about JJ's or Beka's nipples before.

"Uh, is something wrong?" Masha asks, rubbing her arms. She's probably cold; it is fucking April in Russia and she's fucking naked. Well, except…

"No," Yuri says. "Take off the rest." He points to her panties.

Masha hooks her fingers into the elastic and tugs them down. She has a trimmed triangle of hair between her legs, and Yuri frowns mightily. He doesn't even know—fuck. What did the other skaters call it?

"Are you ready? It's cold," she says, and he nods.

"Rub between your legs," Yuri says. "I wanna make sure you're ready for me." For himself, he's still got his long-sleeved tiger shirt on and his jeans, but he's unbuttoned and unzipped them. He strokes his own shaft, trying to raise his interest, and as she puts her fingers between her thighs, Yuri finds himself unwillingly comparing her thighs to JJ's or Beka's. Beka's thighs are stocky and super-muscled like the rest of him—Yuri thinks they could probably choke a bear.

Slowly, his cock fills with blood, swelling against his hand. Masha's eyes are wide and amazed.

"You're huge!" she says, and Yuri glances down at his dick. He's not, not really; he's about average, maybe an inch or so larger. Both Beka and JJ are bigger—JJ by a lot; the thought of JJ's thick cock driving into him that first time fills his head. And Yuri's dick, too, all the rest of the way.

Could it be that…

"Have you ever even _seen_ a naked cock up close before?" Yuri asks, and she shakes her head.

"Gosh, I hope it's gonna fit," she says, biting her lip a little worriedly. Yuri grants her a small smile with a confidence he doesn't feel. He hopes he'll fit, too.

"Condom?" he asks, and Masha abandons rubbing herself to bend down and slide one out of her jeans' pocket. "Are you ready?" he asks her, as he rolls the condom down his dick. He fishes some lube out of his pocket and Masha laughs a little nervously.

"You are gonna… I mean, I've seen you figure skaters together. You're gonna do me in the pussy, right?"

Yuri looks up from the condom, surprised.

"Yeah, no shit," he says. "What did you—"

"Oh my God, it's nothing, forget I said it!" she says, waving her arms around.

"Get on the bed," Yuri says, and she climbs up there, and Yuri's eyes are drawn to the roundness of her pert ass—maybe she _will_ let him do her in the ass after.

Masha lies back, head on the pillow, and opens her legs. Yuri puts a knee on the bed, hoisting himself up, and settles between her spread thighs. He runs his hand down one; it's oddly smooth, and he's not used to skin that soft or hairless. He cups her in his hand, feeling the incredible, bizarre softness of the folds of her skin that hide her entrance.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do here?

Her folds are like little petals hiding the heart of the flower, and Yuri sticks out his tongue a little at the corner of his mouth as he presses against them with his fingers.

"Here," Masha says, and touches his hand. She spreads herself open with two fingers, and Yuri can see the tiny opening there now.

Fuck, but she's small. He covers her hand with his, and as he watches, a droplet of moisture slowly slides down her slit. Her pussy looks strange as fuck to him; he's used to a puckered little rosebud that has to be coaxed to relax, but she's already swelling, body making itself ready.

Yuri sucks in a breath and crams his finger into her slit.

"Easy!" she gasps. "You don't have to push so hard, you know. Here, like this—"

She gentles his finger with hers, showing him how to slide it into her, to bend it so that it follows the contours of her body. Once she's done that, she bites _her_ lip and shifts underneath him. She's starting to drench his fingers and palm with some kind of slick fluid, and he didn't know girls did that! That's fucking cool—maybe he won't need lube after all.

He pulls his finger out and wipes his hand on his dick. It leaves a shining streak of wetness along his length. He knows he's screwing up his face as he grips himself at the base and lines himself up with her dripping opening. He positions the head, and pushes—too hard, because she cries out and yanks his hair.

"What? Fuck, I didn't—"

"Be _careful_ , you idiot, I've never done this with another person before." She blushes.

Oh. She's a virgin? Yuri peers at the place where they're just barely joined. There are a couple drops of blood clinging to her lips and smudged on his dick. Shit! Are girls supposed to _bleed_ when they do this?

"You're bleeding," he says stupidly. She softens her grip on his hair.

"It's okay, that's normal," she says. "But don't just jam it in, fuck. You're supposed to go easy!"

"Well, it's always been easy before," Yuri says, only half lying, because he's thinking of JJ, and Beka. And Viktor, of course.

"You can… uh, push the rest of the way in now, just do it gently," Masha tells him.

Yuri tries to moderate his thrust into her, going slowly, but it feels weird. Her inner walls are spongy, and she stretches around him in a way that's just too… loose. She's tight as a virgin, sure, but not tight like it was inside Viktor.

He finally slides all the way home, and lies on top of her, panting. It doesn't feel as good as he thinks it probably should.

"You could touch my boobs," Masha says uncertainly. "Don't you want to?"

He _doesn't_ really want to, but he doesn't want her to know, so he reaches up and pokes her right tit. He rubs it gingerly, flicking his finger over her nipple, and he's rewarded with a clench of her muscles around his cock. Well, _that_ felt good, at least.

So he does it again, even though she's so… _soft_. He squeezes her boob, trying not to do it too hard, but he doesn't really care for the feel of it. It's too squishy. Not like Beka's hard pecs at all, or JJ's.

Still, she clamps down on his dick as he plays with her, and he starts to pull out of her, then press back in. He sets up a rhythm, but it's not really getting him very close.

"Hey, uh," he says, rolling his pelvis on top of her. It drives his cock as deep as it'll go, bottoming out against something hard inside her. That's fucking weird too—that never happens when he shoves something in his ass. "Can you just, um, put your fingers in my ass?"

He just happens to be looking at her face when he says it, so he sees the horror and revulsion that crosses over her features.

"God, what the fuck?" she says, trying to pull away from him. "Are you some kind of pervert?"

"N-no," Yuri says uncomfortably, as she shoves him in the chest.

"Get off of me," she says, tears beginning at the corners of her eyes. "I don't wanna fuck you anymore. You're too—um— _kinky_."

Yuri slides out of her, rolling away as she jumps off the bed. He doesn't watch her get dressed, just listens to the rustle of clothing.

"I can't believe I gave my virginity to a fucking queer," she says, just before the door slams.

Well, fuck. He's going to have to tell Lilia and Yakov, just in case she talks to the media. And text Leo.

Yuri tugs off the condom and throws it in the trash bin. He tucks himself away, zips up, and wonders if she's right.

What if he _is_ some kind of queer?

&~&

**Lilia's house, April 6, 3:30 p.m.**

Yuri gets permission from Lilia and Yakov—mostly Lilia, since it's her house—to invite Beka to come stay for a few days. Excited, Yuri slams his bedroom door and immediately asks Beka to talk via Skype.

The line hangs for a minute, then Beka answers looking haggard, like he hasn't slept in ages.

Yuri realizes guiltily he hasn't tried to call—or text—Beka in several days.

"Hey, Yura," Beka says, and his voice is scratchy. Maybe he caught a cold?

"Are you sick?" Yuri asks, peering more closely at him. But he really just looks super tired?

"No, I'm fine," Beka says; he's sitting in the edge of his bed, and his room is clean. Almost as if he's trying to hide himself from Yuri even though he already confessed to everything.

"You're lying," Yuri says. "What's wrong?"

"How would you feel, Yura, if someone you cared about said they'd never love you back?" Beka's dark eyebrows draw towards each other, giving him his infamous angry expression.

Well, Yuri knew JJ was a dick, but he's still surprised that Beka would let that get under his skin. He's about to say so, when he remembers why he called.

"Oh! You can come visit me, Beka! Lilia even approved it. I don't think she knows we're fucking, or else I doubt she would have said yes. She told me that because I was eating like I was supposed to, and training hard, that I could have a reward. What do you think?" He bounces on Lilia's couch, beyond excited now. He can cheer Beka up in person!

"I don't know, Yura," Beka says slowly. "I'm not really feeling up to being around people right now."

Yuri is blindsided by this.

"Why, Beka?" Yuri asks, feeling stupid. "Why don't you want to come see me?"

"I don't know, Yuri. Why don't you think about it for a minute and see if you can figure it out?" Beka doesn't just look angry now, he _sounds_ it, too. Angry—and sarcastic. He _never_ talks to Yuri that way.

"But… I don't understand!" Yuri punches Lilia's couch cushion. "Seriously, Beka, why are you giving me the cold shoulder?"

"Are you _that_ stupid?" Beka asks incredulously. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"Find out about what? Is it about me not eating? I've been eating a lot now!" Yuri catches a glimpse of Potya slinking by, but the cat doesn't come sit with him. Yuri pouts.

"No, Yura. The _girl_." Beka covers his mouth, like he's trying to hide something.

"What girl?" Yuri asks, stupidly.

"Did you fuck her?" Beka asks. "Did you decide that you were straight, that me and JJ weren't important to you?"

Yuri thinks his face is probably splotchy with horror now. He grabs a throw pillow and buries his face in it. Muffled, he says,

"How could you—"

"Because I _know_ you, Yura. Just tell me. Did you fuck her, Yuri? Did you wear a condom? Because girls can get pregnant, you know."

"I did wear a condom!"

Too late, Yuri realizes he just gave away the fact that he did actually have sex with her.

"So you did it." Beka sounds awfully disappointed. "Did you enjoy it?"

Yuri doesn't want to answer that. He's still trying not to think about what it says about him that he didn't, not really.

"How did you even know about her?" Yuri asks.

"It was in the news," Beka says. "Leo was _kind_ enough to pass it along via direct message."

"N-no," Yuri admits quietly. "She was too… I don't know. Soft." Yuri rubs his nose against the pillow—if Lilia had seen him do it, she would kill him.

"Yura," Beka says, "I'm gonna ask you this, and then I'm going to hang up. You need to do some hard thinking, and that's why I'm not coming to St. Petersburg. I'm sad and upset that you would run off and screw a stranger just to prove something. Who are you trying to convince? Yura, are you gay?" Beka gestures to himself, probably an indication that _he_ still is, like he said the last time they talked.

Then he disconnects and Yuri's left alone with nothing but his phone. He opens Instagram, and the first post is JJ standing in front of a church. Isabella is there, too, but she's standing some distance away, and JJ's not smiling.

**#sundayfunday #churchday #missmyfriends**

Yuri gets the strangest impression that JJ means him and Beka, since JJ doesn't have any other skater friends.

Before he's thought about whether it's a good idea, he's padded off to his room with his phone, and his cat pads into his room too, and he's dialing the phone.

He's just thinking there's no way JJ will answer the phone—he's only just remembered it's eight-thirty in the morning in Montreal—when it clicks and the line is open.

"Oh, love, it's for you," says Isabella from a distance. "Yuri. No, the other one. Should I tell him you're busy?"

Yuri wants to reach through the phone and punch her in the chest. Stupid bitch! Why is she answering JJ's phone anyway?

And then a new terror dawns on him. _The pictures_. Jesus fucking Christ, JJ better have some kind of password on those folders or Isabella is going to go nuclear, most likely. What might she do, if she finds them? Breaking up with JJ is probably only the _least_ of what she might do.

When JJ's voice comes over the line, he says,

"Yo, Yurio, what's up?" all casual and bright, like he didn't stomp all over Beka's heart. Twice. The goddamn dickweed.

"Did you delete those pictures and videos?" Yuri hisses into the phone. "Isabella just _answered your fucking phone_. Please tell me you're not that much of an idiot."

JJ's voice sounds muffled, as if he's covering his mouth to keep from being overheard.

"I should have," he says, "but I couldn't bring myself to do it yet. I transferred them to my computer, though. That has a password on it, and Izzy doesn't know what it is. It's not her birthday, either, so she probably can't guess it."

Yuri lets out a huge sigh of relief. Then he has another upsetting thought.

"Are you _living_ with her now? Isn't that against your religion or something?" Yuri says like it's a slap in the face.

"Goodness, no!" JJ says in apparent horror. "I still live with my parents, Yuri. Izzy just stopped by for a visit. We're having breakfast and then a Bible study session."

"JJ…" but Yuri doesn't know what he wants to ask. Or rather, _how_ to ask.

"JJ! Breakfast is getting cold!" calls a woman in the background, and Yuri thinks it's probably his mom. So he wasn't lying about living with his parents, then. Unless _he's_ just visiting too. Yuri's calling JJ's cell phone, so really JJ could be anywhere.

"Look, Yuri, unless you have a reason for calling, I have to go. Don't you know what time it is? It's early. I could've still been at church."

"I saw your Instagram post," Yuri says bitterly. "I knew church was over." But he's partly lying; he did know that JJ wasn't in church, but he _had_ forgotten how early it was there.

"Hurry up," JJ says impatiently. "Izzy will eat all my bacon."

"Not my problem," Yuri says with a wave of his hand. "You backed the wrong horse, if you ask me."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" JJ asks in annoyance. "Izzy's not a dang horse, Yuri."

Yuri doesn't like hearing his name fall from JJ's lips, and he doesn't want to closely examine why. He's also frustrated because the King of dirty talk—yes, really—suddenly won't curse. Religion changes a person, and not for the better, in Yuri's opinion.

"It means Beka told me," Yuri says fiercely. "He told me everything."

"What the h—" JJ stops dead. "You called me to dredge up ancient history? Let's talk about you, Yuri. You went out with some strange girl, and—Yuri, sex is only meant for marriage. Any other kind of sex is a sin. Poor Izzy. She was so appalled when she saw the tabloid articles."

Yuri can't figure out how—or why—Isabella would have seen articles from Russia.

"That's rich," Yuri says sarcastically. "Considering what you've been doing, JJ—"

"Shut your mouth," JJ hisses angrily.

"Now, _that's_ not very Christian," Yuri says. He's starting to enjoy himself in a perverse way. If JJ's going to fuck with Beka's heart, then Yuri does not feel bad about being nasty to him.

"If you ever say a word about what happened at Worlds, I will make your life a ruin, Yuri Plisetsky. I can make it so you test positive for drugs, and then your career will be over."

For fuck's sake. Like Yuri's worried about that? Not right now—no, he's going to fucking kill JJ for turning into a giant sellout and a prude.

"I did take that girl to a motel," Yuri says proudly. "And I fucked her. You like that, huh, JJ? I fucked a _girl_. Isn't that right? The way things are _supposed_ to be?" But even as he's saying the words, something about them rings genuine in his mind. At some point, lambasting JJ has made Yuri realize that _he_ doesn't think JJ's right. He fucked that girl because he thought he needed to be straight—but what if that's not true? What if being straight _isn't_ the _right_ choice? Or the only choice, like JJ's making it seem?

"Yuri—"

"Go eat your fucking bacon," Yuri spits. "You know what, JJ? I think I'm fucking gay. Yeah. I said it. I hope it chokes you to death from now on." Yuri hangs up.

God. He wasn't just saying it to mess with JJ, either.

Yuri buries his face in Potya's fur—the cat having come to investigate the yelling—and starts to cry. It hurts, suddenly, to think of himself without JJ to abuse anymore.

Without JJ to _love_.

When did _that_ happen?

&~&

**Yakov's car, on the way to Yuri's home rink | April 7**

"You are going to practice hard today, da? None of this mopey face nonsense because Otabek won't come visit." Yakov is driving his usual way, much too slow and careful. Yuri's feeling reckless—he wants to go _fast_.

"Da, da," Yuri replies, scrolling through his different social media feeds. JJ's awfully quiet. There's one Instagram post of him and Isabella from breakfast, her holding up her hand with the engagement ring on it. It's tagged:

**#nobacon #fianceegetswhatshewants**

This makes Yuri smile spitefully, because JJ _didn't_ get any bacon, and it's because of Yuri. He's pretty sure there's some sort of Bible exhortation about how a good Christian wouldn't take pleasure in JJ's misfortune—or his role in it—but Yuri's never been religious. So he really doesn't care. Fuck JJ.

He zips past a sickening photo of Viktor and the katsudon, wondering why they're both smiling when the piggy was so mad before they left China.

Christophe Giacometti has posted three more pictures of his cat, which Yuri pauses to admire, then he's reached the end of the new posts, so he closes Instagram.

Facebook messenger pings, and when Yuri goes to look, Beka's updated his status from 'available' to 'away'.

"That's weird," Yuri mumbles aloud. Yakov's eyes dart to Yuri, then back to the road.

"Da?" he questions. Yuri flicks his eyes up, considers Yakov, then says,

"Oh, it's nothing. Just that Beka's _always_ available, even when he's sleeping. He always forgets to change it."

"I don't know what all that kablooey means," Yakov grumbles. "You kids and all that… _technology_ these days."

"I'm sorry," Yuri says, feeling genuinely contrite. Yakov is a good guy—he's put up with Yuri's shit for a long time, and he's never kicked Yuri out as his student.

"Put that away, Yurochka, we're almost to the rink."

"Just one more thing—" but Yuri stops talking without even realizing it. He should have put the phone away when Yakov said to, because now he's seen—and can't unsee—Beka's Facebook relationship status: 'it's complicated'.

"What the fuck?" Yuri explodes. Beka's status has said 'single' for months. In fact, in all the time Yuri's known him, he doesn't think it's _ever_ said something besides 'single'.

"What is it now, Yurochka?" Yakov asks wearily. Yuri gives his phone a grimace and turns the screen off. His lock screen is still Potya, thank you very much.

"No, it's nothing. Are we—oh. Good. I want to work on my quads today, Coach Yakov."

"Well, that's nice to hear for a change," Yakov says, parking the car in the lot. "Come on then."

Yuri leaves his phone in his locker stall and refuses to think about Beka. Instead, he cheers himself up by doing quad salchows perfectly and thinking about how the piggy still sucks at them, even all this time later.

&~&

**Lilia's office, after practice, Yuri's home rink**

"All right, Yura, Yakov says you were cursing on the drive over, and obviously you worked very hard today. So: what's wrong?"

"It's stupid," Yuri says, kicking her desk. Lilia frowns, though whether it's because he's clearly upset and she can tell, or because he just kicked her furniture, Yuri doesn't know.

"I'm sure you think so," Lilia says patiently—how is she always so patient with him? "But I'd like to think I know you pretty well by now. How long have I been your choreographer, Yuri?"

"Um…" Yuri honestly has no idea, but, "it's been awhile."

"Yes. And for months now you've been… out of sorts. Want to tell me why?"

"I don't think you'll like it," Yuri mutters. He peers up at through the fringe of his bangs.

Lilia sighs.

"I suppose I might as well show my hand of cards," she says. "Yuri, I know about the… extracurricular activities. All of them."

Yuri flushes. He rather imagines it's very obvious on his fair skin. Lilia gives him the slightest smile, as if she agrees with his internal assessment.

"What do you mean, all of them?" he asks weakly. Lilia might be blushing too, but her makeup keeps Yuri from being able to tell.

"Oh, Yurochka. Let's not go into _details_ , but did you think I couldn't tell you were, ahem, sore? Some practices you could barely move!"

"It could've just been… uh…"

"Don't lie to me, Yuri Plisetsky. And while we're having this tête à tête, I think we should discuss _why_ you aren't eating?"

"But I _have_ been," Yuri protests, stung.

"Only when there is someone to watch you," Lilia points out, and Yuri hates that she's right. But is that even important?

"I'm getting… fat," Yuri mumbles. He stares at the grain of the wood on her desk, now refusing to look at her.

"How do you figure? Yuri, we check your weight. If anything, you've lost more weight than before." Lilia doesn't clobber him with the fact that they check his weight far _more_ now that they caught him starving himself. His weight was always checked, but only at certain intervals.

"It's… look at me," Yuri says.

"Yura, do you see a fat person when you look in a mirror? Because we might need to have you see someone."

"No," Yuri says, "but I just _feel_ it when I'm skating. The jumps are more difficult. My center of gravity is off!"

"Yura, you're growing taller, that's all." Lilia folds her hands on the desk. "So. Tell me. Why did you growl at Yakov in the car?"

"I—" But Yuri can't say it to her. He doesn't know how. Finally, he says, "Beka's relationship status on Facebook changed."

"Ah." Her regular pinched expression loosens a little. "So it is Otabek who stole your heart."

"What? No!" Yuri sinks down in the chair, hoping she can't see the lie written all over his face.

"I think it is," Lilia says. Her voice is almost tender. "Listen, Yura, this isn't the first time I've had this conversation with a skater."

Yuri still refuses to meet her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says mulishly.

"Fine, then. Is it that Jean-Jacques? The Quebecois boy?" Lilia seems content to keep up this painful interrogation for as long as she thinks it's necessary to get information out of Yuri.

"Fuck no," Yuri says heatedly. "That jackass is too busy fondling his Bible and reading his fiancée to fuck around. I hate his guts." This, of course, is a bald-faced lie. Lilia can sniff out a lie from twenty paces—she probably knows.

"I see. Let me tell you a story," Lilia says. "No, don't interrupt. I know you're not a child. It's not that kind of story."

"I don't know why you need to tell me some stupid story," Yuri says, glaring at the floor.

"Didn't I tell you not to interrupt?" Lilia leans forward. "Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He was Yakov's star pupil—the best he'd ever trained, not only in that class, but any of them. And it's not you, Yuri.

"This child got older, and grew his hair out. He experimented with makeup. He wore costumes to make him look more feminine. One day, he came to me and he said, 'Lilia, I don't think I'm like other boys.' So I sat him down and we worked out why."

"Vitya," Yuri says, the pieces falling into place like a perfectly landed quad.

"Yes, that's right. And now he's engaged to Yuuri. What does that tell you?"

"Vitya likes guys, so what?" Yuri doesn't know why the idea of Viktor fucking other men doesn't bother him, and yet thinking about being in love with another boy himself freaked him out, but there it is.

"Yuri… you must see what I'm getting at."

"Oh," Yuri says in a very small voice. "I didn't think I was like Vitya."

Lilia ducks her head for a second, but she's stoic as ever, not the slightest sound of a snicker. She’s really not laughing at him, right? But she lifts her head again and her face is calm, collected.

"I think you understand this better than you're letting on," Lilia says. She still hasn't yelled at him.

"I know." Yuri lets his vision go out of focus because of the carpet pattern. Finally, he does look up and meet Lilia's eyes. "I know. I think I'm gay, too."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Lilia offers him a small smile. "It's no good thing to be in Russia, I know that, Yuri, but there are people who won't care, who don't judge."

"Like all the hate mail Vitya got," Yuri says, frowning mightily now. "But Yakov never even blinked."

"Well, Yakov already knew, of course, and so did I. I don't find you repulsive, Yura. I've suspected for some time that you might be attracted to boys. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Lilia," Yuri says, "they broke up with me, though."

"They?" This causes a raised eyebrow. Oops, he managed to shock her after all. 

"He." Yuri can feel the heat warming his cheeks.

"Is that what happened this morning?" Lilia asks. Yuri's really getting tired of this questioning. He just wants to go home now.

"Something like that," Yuri says sullenly. "Can we go back to your house now?"

"Make sure you feed that cat," Lilia says sternly. "He begs for food all the time. You do feed him, don't you?"

Obviously she's never had cats before.

"Of course I do!" Yuri yells. She raises an eyebrow and Yuri immediately lowers his voice. "I'll feed him, of course I will."

"Are you sure you don't wanna talk about it, Yuri? You'd be better off discussing it with me, rather than Yakov, you know."

"But it's so _stupid_ ," Yuri blurts.

"Why don't you let me judge that for myself," Lilia says. "I'm in no hurry."

"If you’re so smart," Yuri says, annoyed, "figure it out."

"I think it's that lovely Otabek boy," Lilia says. "So polite. Hardly talks, but sometimes, in a man, that's a selling point."

"He talks to _me_ ," Yuri says, then realizes she's dragging it out of him regardless.

"I would hope so. No relationship works without communication."

"Is that why you and Yakov aren't—ugh, I can't believe I'm even thinking about that." Yuri curls his lip. "You only ever yell at each other."

"Precisely my point, thank you. I would hazard a guess that Otabek doesn't raise his voice to you, though."

Yuri gives in. Maybe the faster he tells her, the sooner they can have dinner.

"No, never. JJ doesn't either, usually. He went all Jesus freak on us and that was the end of everything."

"His fiancée is very pretty. Are you sure he didn't just fall in love? It would be painful, Yuri, but sometimes people fall in love elsewhere. And don't refer to his religion that way. I know you don't practice, but this is Russia, and many people here do." She pauses, then her brow wrinkles. "Yurochka, did you say _us_?"

Crap.

"I don't think it meant anything," Yuri says. "At least, not to them. Well, Beka seems to lo—" he clamps his mouth shut. He actually bites his tongue he stops speaking so fast.

"Oh," Lilia says, studying him. "Some of this isn't your story to share, I gather?"

"I guess I thought it would be just fucking," Yuri says, shrugging one shoulder. "But then… shit. Feelings. I never had feelings before!"

"Is that why you struggled with agape so much?" Lilia asks.

"No," Yuri says. "I should have skated eros. I _understood_ that one."

"But wasn't that the whole point, Yuri? To push yourself? If you've learned to skate agape—and you did—then you should be able to get in touch with your feelings."

"But this isn't the same!"

"Yuri: do you _love_ either of those boys?"

"I… might." Yuri wonders if, after a certain point, a blush becomes purple.

"Sometimes, in life, you have to go after what you want, Yuri. I'm sure you know that from how hard you work at your skating, but it applies to people too. If you love either one of them, you need to say so."

"It will never work," Yuri says miserably. "I already told you. JJ dumped me. He found someone else."

"I'm sorry, Yurochka. Then you need to find someone else, too. Why don't you try dating Otabek? Maybe you don't love him now, but things could change."

"I think he's off the market too," Yuri says. "I guess I had two boyfriends, Lilia, and now I don't have any."

If Lilia were the hugging type, she probably would have gotten up and embraced him. Instead, she just lays her hands palms up on the desk.

"That's life, sometimes. Don't be afraid to try again, Yuri."

"I'm starving," Yuri says desperately. Lilia sighs.

"Yes, all right. Time for dinner. I am actually relieved to hear you say you're hungry." She stands up, and Yuri does too.

All the way home, to Lilia's house anyway, with Yakov in the car yammering about the other skaters at practice, Yuri thinks about what he told Lilia.

When did he start thinking about them as his boyfriends?

&~&

**Yuri's bedroom, April 12, 6:55 a.m.**

When Yuri's phone rings before seven in the morning on a Sunday, a day he doesn't have to get up for tutoring or training, he's about to blast the person on the other end.

That is, until he sees who it is. He was already awake, surfing porn on his phone—it's best to do it when Lilia might still be abed—and he's already gone through Instagram and read the news briefs he gets in his email.

Which is why when his phone blinks and displays that he's getting a call from JJ, Yuri almost feels a little pity for him—which has got to be why he accepts the call. Thing is, there was a prominent news article from Montréal about Jean-Jacques Leroy and his fiancée having a huge, blow-up fight in a restaurant the evening before. Well, technically it's still night for JJ, which makes the phone call even stranger.

Or maybe not, since JJ's probably just _had_ that argument. Sometimes it sucks, living in what feels like the future.

"What do you want, JJ?" Yuri asks, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I think I'm done," JJ says, words slurred almost to the point of incomprehensibility. In fact, Yuri's sure he must have mistaken them, because if he had to guess, he would say that JJ's talking about Isabella.

It is this fact—and the little sprout of hope—that keeps Yuri on the phone any longer.

"Are you fucking drunk?" Yuri hisses into the phone. Lilia would probably not be pleased with Yuri having a phone conversation this early on a Sunday. _It's your only full day of rest and recovery_ , she's said many, many, _many_ times.

"I… dunno?" JJ mumbles. Yuri has to turn up the volume on his phone. "I raided Dad's liquor cabinet. I didn' even drink that much."

"You _are_ drunk!" Yuri is filled with glee about this. Stupid JJ, inebriated! "Wow, if you didn't drink that much, you're a fucking lightweight. Hey, _Jean-Jacques_ ," Yuri says, saying his full name sarcastically, "isn't it against your religion to get drunk?"

"Y'know, I don' actually know," JJ says, stumbling over the words. "I think ish prob'ly the sin of gluttony?"

"Okay, did you fucking just drunk dial me? I mean, seriously, JJ, this is fucked up." Yuri forgets to lower his voice for a minute, only reminded at the last second by, of all things, the fact that he startles his cat.

"Yuuuri," JJ drawls, "Je suis désolé. Sans toi, je ne suis rien."

Great, he's so fucking drunk he's speaking French.

"I have no fucking idea what that means," Yuri says impatiently.

"I'm sorry," JJ says. "Je ne peux vivre sans toi."

"Speak English, you fucker," Yuri snarls. "You know I don't speak French. Also, if you're that drunk, sleep it off, _Jean-Jacques_."

JJ lets out a gasping breath on the other end, but instead of sounding like a sob, it sounds like… a _moan_.

Jesus Christ, is JJ—oh holy crap. JJ's getting off on Yuri using his full name.

"What did you call for… Jean-Jacques?" Yuri says it again experimentally. JJ makes another breathy little sound, and Yuri grins. Oh, this _could_ be fun.

"B'cause Izzy doesn' think Imma good enough Christian for her. Yuura. Kitten. I miss your… _cock_ so much."

Well, what the fuck. Yuri was not expecting _that_.

"I don't know," Yuri says, "seems like you gave up fucking everything fun for that twat. If she doesn't appreciate you—"

"Yuura! S'not… she's not so bad." JJ sounds halfway between indignant over Yuri's bad mouth and aroused. "My dad says not to worry 'bout it. I can be a goo' Christian anyway."

"I bet good Christians don't get horny thinking about dicks," Yuri says. He pauses. "Jean-Jacques." Hey, no one ever said Yuri _wasn't_ an asshole.

This time, the moan isn't just audible, it's absolutely obvious what it is. And not only that, but it's followed quickly by another.

"Jesus, JJ, are you jerking off?" There's no response, at least not in words, but JJ's breathing becomes steadily—or unsteadily, as the case may be—more labored. And then the sound of JJ's hand—covered in what is probably his own slick—rubbing up and down over his dick becomes audible too. And the hiss of pain, as JJ does something to get himself further towards that pinnacle.

Fuck. Yuri is easily getting turned on by the sound of JJ jerking off. His own dick likes the sounds JJ is making far too much. So Yuri does something that's probably terrible: eggs him on for his own benefit.

"Jean-Jacques," Yuri whispers into the phone, making his voice deeper, more throaty. "Pinch your nipple for me."

"Ah, kitten!" JJ cries, pleasure edged with pain.

"Did you do it, Jean-Jacques? Did you pinch it… _hard_?"

"I need you," JJ says, begging. "Please, kitten."

Yuri glances at his bedroom door. It's not locked, but he doesn't hear any movement in the rest of the house, so he slips his hand inside his boxer briefs and runs one fingernail up the shaft of his cock.

"Are you thinking of me, JJ? Of my cock? I'm touching myself imagining what you must look like right now."

JJ makes a needy little noise and then grunts; Yuri gives into temptation and wraps his fingers around his cock.

"Tell me, _Jean-Jacques_ , what you want."

"Yuri," JJ slurs, still drunk, still grieving, probably. "I want you to fuck me," he adds, and those words come across quite clear.

"Where's your hand, JJ?" Yuri asks, grinding the heel of his hand against his length, up and down. He covers his mouth with his other hand to muffle his words. Somehow, he doesn't think Lilia would appreciate him having phone sex with a boy he said is in love with someone else.

"On m-my cock, kitten," JJ says, and he sounds utterly wrecked. Not the confident, sexually assured nineteen-year-old Yuri is used to, but someone buckling under the pressure.

"Stroke it for me," Yuri commands in a whisper. "Fuck yourself on your fingers, Jean-Jacques, until you come. _Hurry_."

For his part, Yuri flicks the foreskin back on his dick, coats his fingers in precome, and reaches beneath him, finding and probing his hole with two fingers. Luckily he's limber enough to do this even with his underwear still on—the fabric stretches accommodatingly. He pulls his hand away from his face, the phone balanced against his shoulder, and grips his cock tightly, jacking it fast, even as his fingers surge up inside him and find his sweet spot.

"Aah," JJ cries, sounding closer and closer. "I need—Yuri!"

"I'm gonna too," says Yuri, speeding up his movements. He pushes back on his fingers on every downstroke, and lifts off of them slightly every time he rubs his cock back the other way. "Jean-Ja—ah!" Yuri gasps, as his body tightens and crests the wave.

"Je jouis!" JJ babbles, " _Kitten_."

"What does that mean?" Yuri asks, but he gets no response. "JJ?" Still nothing. "Hey, JJ."

A light, somnolent breath, and Yuri realizes that JJ is so drunk he passed out while still on the phone. Sighing, Yuri disconnects. Potya is glaring at him from the end of the bed, head resting on his paws, as Yuri wipes come onto the inside of his underwear. Then he strips out of them and collapses backwards on the bed, nude.

Yuri would bet good Russian rubles that JJ won't remember this in the morning. Well, in the morning for _him_.

Opening the internet browser on his phone, Yuri starts attempting to translate French phrases. Too bad he doesn't know how to spell any of them. 

Damn JJ.

===================================

Je suis désolé = I'm sorry  
Sans toi, je ne suis rien = Without you, I'm nothing  
Je ne peux vivre sans toi = I can't live without you  
Je jouis! = I'm coming!

&~&

**Outside in the backyard of Lilia's house, mid-afternoon, April 12**

Yuri's sitting in a lawn chair, freezing to death in a tiger print hoodie, jeans, and his customary sneakers, wondering why he feels compelled to stare at the clouds on a cold April day in St. Petersburg, Russia.

But he knows part of it was to keep out of Lilia's way as she's using lemon wax on her hardwood floors. He could have stayed holed up in his room, but Lilia has an agreement with him: if he doesn't get in her way while she's cleaning, she'll even dispose of most of the garbagy mess in his room. Well, her cleaning service will. Yuri doesn't think he's ever actually seen Lilia do anything herself, cleaning-wise.

It's grey outside, and individual clouds are indistinguishable from one another, so Yuri gives up on that and pokes at his phone. Instagram is quiet. Chris posted a picture of his mysterious roommate—who they all have bets on whether he's Chris's boyfriend—with his cat. Phichit, who Yuri only follows because he posts dirt on the katsudon and Viktor, has posted about thirty-seven pictures of his hamsters. Yuri groans and scrolls by them.

There's nothing from JJ, not that Yuri's really surprised. He's probably still passed out drunk—or hungover. Yuri is curious whether JJ would get a lecture from his mom or dad, not that he'd ever ask.

For Yuri, he feels a little anxious about the way things went down this morning, If JJ remembers, he's probably going to be pissed. And if JJ _doesn't_ remember, Yuri's going to feel a bit used. He huffs out a huge sigh. It felt better than he would've liked to admit to engage in phone sex with JJ. Possibly because he hasn't had as many orgasms lately, but more likely because he _misses_ JJ, fuckdammit.

If JJ ever finds out… but no. Why would he? JJ's probably not going to call Yuri again—unless he gets wasted again, Yuri supposes, but if that becomes a pattern, Yuri's going to fly to Montreal and fucking kill him.

And then Yuri yanks at his hair, frustrated with himself. He can't fucking stop thinking about fucking JJ Leroy. JJ had made it so clear he'd moved on, then this morning's dirty phone call, and now Yuri's tied up in knots.

It's while he's 'liking' a post of Viktor's—hoping the piggy doesn't decide to kill him for doing it—that his phone rings. Beka.

Shit. Why is Beka calling? The last time he spoke to Beka, his friend was upset and chewed him out, then hung up. Yuri's genuinely surprised Beka's reaching out to him—he hasn't done anything to earn Beka's forgiveness. He's also feeling a bit guilty because his Instagram posts haven't acknowledged Beka's conversation at all: he never told Beka he's gay. He's not even sure he knows how to.

By the time he's thought about all that, the phone has gone to voicemail because Yuri was staring at it stupidly. He quickly opens the missed calls dialogue and taps Beka's name.

He's worried Beka won't pick up, possibly thinking Yuri's ignoring him, but he does, right away.

"Hey, Yura, do you have a few minutes?" Beka asks, and Yuri really wishes he could see him.

"You wanna Skype?" Yuri asks hopefully. He misses being able to look into Beka's gorgeous eyes. Or how his lips are sculpted and full, making Yuri wish for kisses.

"I only have a short time," Beka says, almost sounding regretful. Almost. Crap. Is he still mad? Yuri wants a glimpse of those toned abs, or even—especially—his cock. He really misses seeing Beka in person and being able to admire his ass.

"Oh. I see," Yuri says, feeling thwarted. If he could've just _seen_ Beka… maybe he could've wormed forgiveness out of him. "Okay. So what is it?"

"Have you checked the mail today?" Beka asks, and he sounds odd, like he's making a funny face.

"Email's dead, Instagram's all cats and hamsters… why?"

"I meant the snail mail," Beka says. Yuri's forehead wrinkles.

"Who even uses that anymore?" Yuri asks, puzzled. "Email and social media is so much faster."

"Can you go get the mail?" Beka asks. A breeze blows, making Yuri shiver, and his voice reflects the sudden cold chill.

"Lilia's cleaning today. I won't see if there's any mail until later."

"Where are you, Yura? You sound like you're freezing." Beka's own voice sounds concerned. Well, that's a relief, at least; Beka doesn't _hate_ him, even if he said some harsh things to Yuri during their last interaction.

"Outside," Yuri says. "Don't keep me in suspense! What am I looking for?"

"Viktor sent an invitation to his wedding shower." Beka says something else, but Yuri's too busy suddenly feeling cold for a very different reason: he remembers that the last time he saw Viktor, he'd just fucked him—and Yuuri knows about it.

"I— sorry. What did you say?" he asks, idiotically. The faintest strain of golden light peeks through the clouds, but it's still fucking cold as fuck.

"I said Viktor sent plane tickets with the invitation. It has an R.S.V.P. note with it, but I think the tickets are an indication that I don't have a choice," Beka says ruefully. "I mean, I guess it doesn't matter, but… well. I was sort of hoping he invited you, too. I'd like to see you." This last is said almost shyly, as if Beka suddenly feels unsure of himself around Yuri. Which is fucking stupid.

"I guess I'll find out in awhile," Yuri says. The sun has fled back behind clouds, and Yuri tugs his hoodie tighter around his ears. "Lilia brings in the mail because it's her house. She hates if I touch it before she brings it to me, if I get anything."

"Text me if you get an invitation," Beka says. "Listen, I gotta—"

"Beka, wait." Yuri's sorry he said it as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but it's too late to call them back.

"Hurry up," Beka says, sounding _extremely_ impatient. Huh. Beka's never given off this vibe before—like spending time with Yuri is a chore. And five seconds after he said he wanted to see Yuri. What's that all about?

"Have you, uh… heard from JJ?" Yuri bites his lip in dismay. He didn't mean to bring that up! It's a sore subject for all three of them.

"No," Beka says. "Is that all? Yura, JJ's out. He's not gonna give up his straitlaced life and his perfect trophy wife for you."

Yuri wonders if Beka feels the same way, or if he's only saying it to Yuri because he's written JJ off for himself already.

"O-of course not," Yuri stutters. "I know that. But he cal—" Yuri shuts his mouth and his teeth catch on his lip. Ow.

"He what, Yura? Do you… do you miss him? I wish I could help you. I'd do something about it if I could, but JJ's really a hopeless case. When he started messing around with you, I thought maybe he'd moved past this bullshit. But then Izzy happened all over again. I _have_ to go. If you need to tell me anything else, email."

"All right… okay, Beka. Da. See you soon, I hope." Yuri stares at his phone screen—still the photo JJ took of Yuri lying naked in bed with Beka—as Beka tells him goodbye. Yuri watches it until the screen goes dark.

He shouldn't say anything, he knows that, but he wakes up his phone again and opens his email app.

**from: InvincibleIceTygr@gypsymail.com**  
**to:** **kazakhhero@gypsymail.com**

> jj called me this a.m. he was drunk. i think he was lonely or some shit. he whined about his fucking religion and talked to me in fucking french. anyway. i guess that's all i wanted to say. i won't get too stuck on the idea of jj, i promise he's a fuckhead anyway. bye beka. ~ unbeatable Ice Tiger [who is going to kick ur ass in the grand prix this yr]

The back door opens and Lilia calls, 

****

"Yurochka! I'm all finished with the housecleaning. You can come in now. And you got mail!"

Yuri jumps up and runs for the house.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hasetsu, Japan, Yu-Topia, April 28**

When Yuri gets to Hasetsu, and rolls his suitcase into the entrance, the first person he sees is JJ, and realizes that Viktor and Katsudon aren't the only people getting married.

Well, to be fair, he knew that, but JJ's wearing both a bright golden smile as he waves to Yuri, and a bright golden ring on his hand. Yuri's stomach clenches.

"Kitten!" JJ says, and before Yuri knows what's happening, JJ is running over and enclosing him in a tight, warm hug. "I've missed you."

This goodwill probably all comes from the fact that, despite their [huge] fights, JJ and Isabella must have made it official. Yuri's not sure why else JJ would be wearing a gold ring. That, when JJ reaches up to sweep some of Yuri's blond hair away, winks on his finger and is _definitely_ a wedding band. It has to be, anyway; JJ wasn't wearing any jewelry before as a promise to Isabella—still, maybe he's wrong.

He tries to speak, but has to stop and clear his throat; it's dry and raspy.

"JJ, are congratulations in order?"

JJ grins, huger and more filled with joy and euphoria than he's ever seen, even when JJ had just won gold at an event. Maybe because he had a different kind of gold now.

"Yes! Oh, Yuri, I'm so _happy_ ," JJ says, twirling Yuri around. "He was right, marriage makes a man out of a person. Living with Izzy is a dream…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri catches sight of Beka, wearing a stiff smile. It must be bad if Beka's attempting to smile about it.

"Oh," Yuri says uncomfortably. "I'm happy for you, I guess."

JJ leans in, his breath hot and sweet-smelling as he murmurs into Yuri's ear,

"Don't you worry, kitten. I've still got time for you. And Beka, of course. We three will always have Barcelona. Future competitions bring new opportunities—we don't have to stop just because I made an honest woman out of Izzy. She never has to know…"

But even Yuri knows that's wrong. Somewhere along the line, the idea of cheating has become abhorrent to him; he breaks out of JJ's hug and steps away from him.

JJ looks so goddamn good, tanned skin, gorgeous muscular build, those blue eyes… It's enough to make Yuri wish he didn't mind the fact that JJ ran off and got married.

"But, JJ," Yuri says, sinking into the depths of those eyes, "you just called me a couple weeks ago, stinking drunk, and told me it was over with Isabella."

"Oh no, kitten, I'm sorry," JJ says, his golden tan causing his face to glow—or maybe that's just the happiness that's stamped all over him? "No, I meant I was done with you and Beka, of course, but after I married Izzy, I realized nothing has to change. Give me a kiss?"

But as Yuri tilts his face up, readying himself for the feel of JJ's lips on his after so long, he discovers he's standing at the top of a snowy mountain, lips chapped and frostbitten, stark naked.

He reaches for JJ as he topples backwards, hands outstretched for JJ to grab onto, to pull him back, to _save_ him—but JJ's turning, his back so broad as he wraps an arm around Isabella's shoulder and they recede into the distance.

Yuri falls.

~~~

Yuri wakes up. The plane is descending, readying for touchdown, as Yuri wipes sleep from his eyes and drool from the corners of his lips.

Shit, why couldn't he have had a _good_ dream? Maybe Beka blowing him, or winning gold at the Grand Prix Final, or even the feel of Viktor snug around his cock again.

But no, he dreams about fucking _JJ_ —and about JJ being married. Breaking his heart.

Yuri is _never_ going to let JJ do that to him. Or Beka.

&~&

**Actually Hasetsu, Japan, April 28, banquet hall**

"I cannot fucking believe that old fart and stupid fucking pig locked us in here!" Yuri shouts, kicking at the door. JJ is leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest, face dark. He's _definitely_ not happy either.

The only person who seems unfazed is Beka, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't think ranting and raving about it is going to change Viktor's mind," Beka says in his quiet, _reasonable_ voice. Yuri hates that voice.

"Fuck you, Beka," he lashes out angrily, kicking at the door again.

"Yura…" Beka says warningly, "if you injure your feet, how will you skate? Your feet are your most valuable assets. Stop kicking the damn door and sit down."

Yuri plops down onto the floor as angrily as he was kicking the door. It's stupid, though, because it hurts his ass. Fuck.

"You could sit down too, JJ," Beka offers, but JJ shakes his head. For someone who's usually so talkative, he's being very laconic this afternoon. Yuri wishes he didn't care why.

But his dream is still fresh in his mind, and when he got here, the first thing he did was check JJ's hands for rings. There weren't any, and Yuri still hates himself for how grateful he felt after he confirmed that.

"You don't have to be such a fucking shit ass," Yuri says to JJ. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

At this, JJ tenses, turning hooded, dark eyes on Yuri.

"I think you know," JJ finally says. His voice is throaty, and Yuri loathes the way his body betrays him by tightening fractionally at the stimulus. Yuri already knows JJ turns him on, but he doesn't need a reminder right _now_ , thanks. Right now he wants to cling to his anger, to his righteous feeling of indignation and _JJ's_ betrayal.

"No, I don't," Yuri says with a growl. "Yours is a damage I just don't understand."

"I don't want to be here. I should be with Izzy." JJ's mouth turns down petulantly. "I wish I'd never answered that stupid invitation."

Invoking her name is like JJ suddenly fell to his knees and started preaching to the heavens about the delights of religion. Yuri is disgusted. After all that they've been to each other…

"So she's better than us, huh?" Yuri leaps to his feet and stalks over to JJ. "Well, JJ, she's not better than _me_. Maybe someday you'll figure out that you like c—"

"Yura, sit down, that's enough," Beka says sharply. Yuri kicks at JJ's foot, then whirls around and sits next to Beka. Even if their relationship isn't easy right now, he's still strangely comfortable with Beka.

"I'm going to call Izzy," JJ says, "and have her call Viktor. I bet he'll understand when I—"

"You fucking idiot," Yuri snaps. "He wants us in here together. Weren't you listening?" Doing a credible imitation of Viktor, he says, "You are going to sit here, and cool your heels, until you talk this out. This thing between you is madness, and ridiculous."

"He said 'relationship'," Beka corrects softly. "JJ, Yura has a point there. Viktor sees something here that he thinks needs to be fixed. And it behooves you to go along with it." Beka offers the tiniest smile, like a peace offering.

"We don't _have_ a relationship," JJ says rigidly. "I'm going to stay in the light of God. I can't slip up anymore."

Well, now, Yuri can't let that slide—he surges to his feet again and in seconds is in JJ's face. He goes _en pointe_ and kisses JJ, directly on the mouth, with his tongue poking out to tap against JJ's lower lip.

" _I_ ," Yuri says, breathing in JJ's breath, "am not a slip up. You will not forget that, and you will _not_ treat me that way."

"Yura—" Beka begins, but,

"I'm not gonna be _calmed down_ this time," Yuri says fiercely. "You and me, JJ, right now."

JJ's forehead creases.

"You want to… fight… me?" he ask in confusion.

"No. I want to fuck you." Yuri doesn't care that he's not supposed to be touching JJ anymore. All he can think about is that fucking dream, and how if he doesn't lay all his cards on the table, JJ might make it come true.

What can he do if JJ marries her? It would be a terrible mistake. JJ's eyes have to be opened to that. Yuri's not in it for himself.

Much, anyway.

"I… won't…" JJ says weakly, but Yuri anchors himself on his toes by hanging onto JJ's neck. Why does he have to be so goddamn tall?

"Kiss me again, Jean-Jacques, and then tell me you won't. Do it, you fucker."

Beka is meaningfully silent, and Yuri rather thinks it's because he still _wants_ JJ. Maybe even more than Yuri does.

"Wait," he says, staring into blue eyes. "You kiss me, and then you kiss Beka. If you can do that and feel nothing, I'll let it go."

"Fine," JJ says firmly. "If it will prove to you I'm loyal to God and to Izzy."

JJ doesn't have to be prompted. He hoists Yuri up with hands beneath the round swell of his ass, and his mouth comes down hard on Yuri's.

Jesus, for someone who was so angrily protesting a moment ago, JJ is more than invested in this. He's gone straight for the prize: he presses into Yuri's mouth with his tongue and Yuri didn't realize he had been so tense until the kiss sweeps through his whole body, leaving behind a malleable softness. Goddamn JJ. It isn't supposed to be like this.

Yuri's not supposed to be swept away like he's on a swift ocean current. But his fingers are gripping the short hairs of JJ's undercut, hauling him as close as Yuri can get him, the kiss becoming a frenzy, emotions rushing through him until he's breathless and letting go, sinking to his knees.

He peers up at JJ through his eyelashes, and good, JJ looks suitably rocked, too.

"Beka's turn," he says through uneven breaths. He turns to find Beka's eyes on him and is surprised that Beka doesn't look interested. "C'mon, Beka, it won't hurt."

JJ is the one to instigate things, though. He goes down to his knees on the floor and slides forward, towards Beka.

Beka gives Yuri a helpless, almost panicked look. As close as Beka probably ever gets, anyway. 

But then JJ's kissing Beka, and Yuri notices a flaw in his plan: this is super hot, and Yuri wants more.

JJ's hands come up to cradle Beka's face, tilting his head slightly, altering the angle until he can go in deeper; Beka moans, gripping JJ's shoulders tightly; he's wrinkling the fine weave of JJ's expensive shirt.

Yuri chews his lip, feeling himself harden in his jeans, his eyes greedily taking in the scene before him. He wants to watch them make out forever… but he's also feeling excluded.

Beka straightens his legs; JJ spreads his thighs apart and grinds downward against Beka. They both gasp. Beka sighs and thrusts his hips up; Yuri can practically feel the friction himself just from the decadent noises they're making.

If Yuri had to guess, he'd say JJ's definitely hard, if the way he rolls his pelvis is any indication. And Beka isn't far behind; for a second there's daylight between their groins, and Yuri can see the rigid line of Beka's cock against his jeans.

Fuck this, it may be unbelievably hot, but Yuri's not going to get off just by watching them. He sidles up to JJ and wraps an arm around his rock hard middle. He adjusts his position so he's directly behind JJ and opens his thighs so he can rub his hard cock against JJ's ass.

The second they come up for air, Yuri yanks JJ's shirt over his head. He can hear a button roll away into a corner; refusing to be distracted, he puts his mouth over JJ's shoulder blade and bites hard.

JJ keens in his throat and Yuri sinks his teeth all the way in. It's ceased to matter if JJ has misgivings; he's hard and he's between them, where he belongs.

"Yura," Beka says quietly. He holds something out in his hand. Yuri shouldn't be surprised, but the pocketknife is still unexpected. 

"You want _me_ to do it?" Yuri asks with trepidation. 

"You do the back, and I'll do the front."

JJ must be pretty into things, because he doesn't flinch or complain when, taking turns, Beka and Yuri cut his pants off of him.

Imagine Yuri's shock that JJ is not wearing underwear.

"Well, well, well," Yuri says, "the good Catholic boy has some naughty secrets."

JJ flushes, but his cock is flushed prettily too, and Yuri lets it fill his hand. He'll never get used to the way it looks, so different from his and Beka's. 

From over JJ's shoulder, Yuri can see Beka lick his lips. Yuri goes up as high as he can on his knees, then leans over JJ's shoulder and pulls Beka in for a kiss.

A glint of gold catches his eye, and he discovers JJ is wearing a necklace. He pulls back from Beka to investigate, and there's a small golden crucifix at the end of the chain, dangling against JJ's bare chest.

Before Yuri can properly assimilate this, JJ's fingers close around it, clutching the crucifix pendant as he mutters something under his breath—even as he ruts against Beka's hard dick, his own already huge and sticky.

Yuri is suddenly infuriated by its presence; he bites the lobe of JJ's ear this time, grinning with wicked pleasure as JJ rocks harder into Beka and precome wells up from his slit.

That's when Beka reaches down between them and unzips his jeans. Things are escalating quickly, and Yuri's impressed with how fast JJ and Beka got on board. The problem is, there's no way he can fuck JJ without some kind of lubricant. JJ might like pain, but Yuri only likes it in small doses and he also doesn't want to do real damage to JJ's ass.

He casts a hurried glance around the room and, much to his surprise and delight, there's a bottle of what looks like cherry flavored lube sitting by the door on an end table.

"Don't move," he tells JJ, and gives Beka a significant look; Beka accepts the silent challenge to keep JJ from getting distracted—or suddenly remembering his resolve—and traps JJ within his arms.

Yuri snags the lube off the table—it's nearly empty—and on his way back to his two lovers (he's calling them that now, fuck it) he opens his own jeans and yanks them down a little.

He sits down behind JJ again, legs spread, interlocking with Beka's legs, and pours a dollop of lube over his hands and cock. Then he passes the lube to Beka; while Beka's coating himself, Yuri reaches beneath JJ and finds his hole with two fingers. They go in so easily Yuri breathes into JJ's ear,

"Have you been playing with your favorite butt plug, Jean-Jacques? Not a very Catholic thing to do, is it?"

A shudder ripples through JJ's whole body; whether it's because Yuri used his full name or because he secretly harbors a kink for dirty talk, Yuri isn't sure, and he doesn't care. He widens JJ a little more with his fingers and then, judging him ready, he nods to Beka, who has more upper body strength than he does. Beka lifts JJ just enough for Yuri to slide beneath him. Yuri lines up and then, arms tight around JJ's middle, he coordinates with Beka so that gravity takes over as Beka lets JJ go; JJ's hole greedily swallows up Yuri's dick and they both groan as it's buried within him.

"You r-ready, Beka?" Yuri gasps, body shaking from the sensation of so much silky tightness enveloping his cock.

"This better be worth it," Beka says so softly that Yuri almost can't hear him over JJ's heaving breaths.

"Get inside him," Yuri orders, and Beka's eyes open and close slowly, lashes thick and defined against his cheeks. Yuri has the fleeting thought that he should ask if Beka's wearing mascara, but the thought flies right out of his head when Beka slides his palm down JJ's hard abs, fingers quickly finding JJ's stretched hole and touching ever-so-briefly Yuri's cock before he's pushing up too.

Beka's cock is liberally smothered with lube, smoothing the way as he rears upwards, all those incredible thigh and ass muscles coming into play as he fits snugly in alongside Yuri.

For a bit, Beka and Yuri breathe in a rapid-fire counterpoint, hearts on fire, as JJ cries and moans and shakes apart on their dicks—and they haven't even started moving yet.

"Jean-Jacques," Yuri whispers, "you're going to have to help us. Up and down, ride us for all you're worth, you fucking got that?"

Another heavy, damp gasp, and JJ is moving, using his own powerful muscle tone to slide upwards, almost all the way, and Beka's dick rubs enticingly against Yuri's as JJ fucks himself on them.

"Do it harder," Yuri commands, grabbing Beka's hand and yanking it towards him, around JJ, and over his heart. He's not even sure why he does it, just that he wants Beka to feel the way his heart races as their cocks stroke together; Beka uses his other hand to guide JJ back down and slams his hips upward.

Yuri moves with Beka, and they both fill up JJ to impossible degrees. Between Beka fucking into JJ fast and hard, and JJ pushing down against them, Yuri hardly has to do anything to want to die from the exquisite pleasure of being sheathed inside JJ's scorching hot ass while having his cock stimulated by Beka's thick, throbbing length.

JJ's fingers are scrabbling for purchase over Beka's shoulders, but they keep slipping off due to the sweat soaking the three of them. He makes tiny, frustrated little cries with every thrust into him, and Yuri realizes that this just isn't quite getting JJ _there_.

When JJ's right hand covers his crucifix again, Yuri has an idea—an evil idea, that is probably a horrible thing to do, but he can't help but think it might actually help JJ.

"Jean-Jacques," he forces out through his pleasure-constricted throat, "you think your God is happy to see you this way? Go on; keep praying for forgiveness as we destroy your ass with dick."

"Yura!" Beka cries, but JJ lets out a string of broken moans, grinding his ass down on them, and Yuri hooks his fingers through the back of the chain even as Beka's hand slides away from his chest. He rips at the chain, snapping it and tossing it away. JJ almost _screams_ , his hand opening, and the golden pendant glitters in the sunlight as it falls, hitting the floor with a plink and then Yuri can't see it anymore.

It's like JJ's been set free: he becomes a wild thing between them, fucking himself so hard on their cocks Yuri wouldn't be surprised to see blood; he tosses his head as Beka slams home again.

"It's okay," Yuri says, staring into deep brown eyes. "He needs it. Give it to him, Beka."

"I'm close, Yura," Beka says in a husky voice. His cock is swelling even more against JJ's inner walls and Yuri's own hardness as they ram mercilessly into JJ over and over, JJ helping them out by lifting off and then sitting back against their thighs, causing them both to plunge overwhelmingly deep.

Their eyes are locked on each other when Beka begins to come; the feel of his cock jerking against his brings Yuri off too. Yuri keeps his eyes open, even as perspiration and tears from his orgasm cause his vision to blur, but he can't let Beka lose it alone. No, he has to keep staring into those fathomless, beautiful eyes as his dick empties inside of JJ's ravaged ass—he must be stretched and loose by now, but he's not complaining, just rocking arrhythmically back and forth on them.

"Can Jesus do this?" Yuri asks, wrapping JJ's cock in his fist. It only takes one clever twist of his wrist—probably combined with his blasphemous comment—to have JJ almost bawling and spurting thickly between his belly and Beka's.

"Je vais gicler!" JJ gasps, getting louder and louder as Yuri wrings his orgasm out of him.

====================== 

Je vais gicler! = I'm going to spurt!

&~&

**Hasetsu, Japan, fifteen minutes later**

Afterwards, JJ is splayed out on the floor, high on his recent orgasm, his eyes shut and his chest rising and falling unevenly. Yuri is planting kisses up along his calves, culminating in a vivid hickey on his inner thigh.

"Just between you, me, Beka, and God," Yuri murmurs against the black-and-blue mark. "Isabella won't see this." He licks the mark, pressing his tongue into it, rewarded with a hiss of pain from JJ.

"Don't torture him, Yura," Beka says from his place next to JJ, lying on his side. He keeps flicking JJ's tears away with his fingertip, then slipping it into his mouth.

"He _likes_ it," Yuri argues, setting his teeth against JJ's other thigh.

"You don't need to take it too far," Beka says softly. "Don't hurt him anymore, Yura. Can't you see he's broken?"

"He's fine," Yuri says. "If he's broken, it's in a good way."

"Yura, look at me," says Beka, and Yuri raises his head. "We hurt him."

JJ's apparently too fucked out to be conscious of their conversation, because he doesn't say anything.

"You still love him," Yuri says in a small voice. He doesn't know why, but that _hurts_.

"Yura… of course I do. Don't you remember that I love you, though?"

"It's not enough," Yuri says, sitting up. He pinches the hickey on JJ's thigh. JJ moans a little and his eyelids flicker.

"I'm going to Hell," he says, staring up at the ceiling. Yuri buttons his jeans. He crawls over JJ's dead weight to get to Beka, then flattens himself onto Beka, mouth finding his friend's.

Kissing Beka is always a new experience, never quite the same; this time Beka's tongue tastes like salt. JJ's tears, Yuri thinks fancifully.

It reminds Yuri; he leaves Beka's delicious mouth regretfully, then uses his tongue on JJ's abdomen to slowly lap up the come JJ's splattered all over himself.

He hears Beka zip up his jeans, then make a soft noise of disgust.

"He jizzed on my shirt," Beka says. "And, Yura, we need to find something to cover JJ with."

"Our bodies?" Yuri jokes, one last swipe of his tongue over JJ's belly.

"I think our bags are in the corner," JJ says, voice gravelly, sounding utterly fucked out—and not like himself at all.

"It lives!" Yuri cries, jabbing JJ in the stomach. He grunts and tries to roll away. "Good thing you're not fucking Isabella," Yuri adds. "She'd probably be suspicious of the shape of my teeth on your shoulder."

"Yuri…" JJ says, more subdued than Yuri's ever heard him be. "This can't happen. I'm ruined."

"Nooo," Beka says, touching JJ's forehead, tangling his fingers in sweat-sticky hair. "It will be okay. You can just—what, go to confession?"

"I can't confess to this," JJ says. "My priest… he would be so disappointed. I'm not gay, guys. I'm not."

"You sure like being fucked in the ass, though," Yuri puts his two cents in. "Maybe you should consider other options—"

"Yeah? And you, Yuri? Do you—"

"Okay, you've got me there. I lied because I was angry."

Before JJ can press him, spilling secrets that Yuri's not ready to confide in Beka yet, there are footsteps in the hall. Yuri flops onto his back, leaving JJ to find his clothes. He can hear rustling, his eyes closed, as Beka and JJ murmur and move hurriedly through the room.

There is a click, then the door opens. Yuri figures he should pretend not to be dead, so he sits up.

The piggy is silhouetted in a sun-splash behind him.

"I'm going to kill him," Katsudon says. "I'm so sorry. Please, come out."

Yuri's eyes are drawn to JJ, who has only managed to struggle into unbuttoned jeans. His dress pants are a sliced up mess strewn on the floor. The piggy sighs heavily.

"Of course Vitya thinks sex will solve everything. It is one of his major shortcomings. Dear heaven, that's my favorite lube! Did you use it all?"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Yuri says with a glare. The fat pig glares back.

"I told you to stay away from my fiancé," he says angrily. "You did enough damage."

"He's the one that sent the wedding shower invitations," Yuri spits. JJ clears his throat.

"You broke my crucifix," he says, sounding both forlorn and upset. "Find it for me."

"I don't take orders from you," Yuri snarls, whipping around. Goddamn, but JJ looks good: not only all that golden skin, but the bruises and hickeys and bite marks make him delicious.

"Yura, please find his crucifix," Beka says. He's so quiet Yuri almost forgot he was there.

"But—"

"For once," Beka says, "do the right thing."

Fuck, he hates being scolded by Beka. It always makes his stomach jumpy.

Crawling around the floor, he pokes at sunlit areas, seeking a flash of gold.

"Tony, Tony, look around; something's lost and must be found," JJ chants under his breath. God, what now?

"The fuck is that, you freak?" Yuri growls. JJ turns pink, but he answers anyway.

"Patron saint of lost objects," he explains, somewhat sheepishly. "If you pray to St. Anthony, you find things you've lost."

"That's a load of crap," Yuri says, then snatches something off the floor. "Found it! Happy, you Jesus freak? In more ways than one, huh?"

" _Yura_ ," Beka says, and Yuri sticks out his lower lip. He puts the golden cross in JJ's hand, and JJ is already mournfully gazing at his snapped chain.

"Any jeweler can fix that," Yuri says dismissively. The katsudon clears his throat.

"I don't know what Vitya told you, but we haven't set a date for the wedding yet, never mind the wedding shower. I am seriously going to _kill_ him. Fucking going behind my back and— And _you_ ," he says, pointing to Yuri, "stay the hell away from Viktor."

He whirls around and stomps off; Yuri's never seen any of the quiet, polite Japanese people act so demonstrative and angry. Viktor must be rubbing off on Yuuri—in more ways that one.

JJ and Beka are both staring hard at Yuri.

"What?" he asks, patting his clothes to make sure they're not too wrinkled or jizz-stained.

It's Beka who speaks, sounding unhappy and disappointed.

"What did you do to Yuuri, Yura? Before we came to Hasetsu, he was desperate to marry Viktor as soon as possible. Now, they're barely on speaking terms."

"How do you even know that?" Yuri asks, a thread of fear winding around his heart.

"I talk to them," Beka says simply. "And I follow them on social media. Haven't you noticed they haven't posted a photo together in weeks?"

Uh, no, he hasn't, actually. He's been trying to avoid thinking about those things. Those damn days where his head felt swollen by feelings he didn't understand.

Still, he's not going to admit to fucking Viktor. That would destroy any inroads they might have made on JJ, and Yuri wants Beka to have his lover back.

"I think they did," he says instead. "Come on. I have to fucking piss. I didn't see a bathroom in here."

JJ throws him a strange look, something Yuri can't decipher, but he shoves his arms into his shirt and smooths it down.

Then the stupid dumb idiot exits the room like it's on fire, leaving Beka and Yuri alone.

"I won't tell him," Beka says, "but don't lie to me. What did you do, Yura? Please tell me you kept it in your pants."

There is a guilty, smothering flush on Yuri's face now. Beka closes his eyes for a second, then when he opens them again, he seems so sad.

"You were right," he says. "It wasn't enough. I loved you, and you fucked Viktor, didn't you?"

"Beka—"

"No, don't. I don't want excuses. I don't want to be second best. Just… don't tell JJ. It would utterly wreck him."

"I don't see why," Yuri mutters.

"Because he loves you, you fucking little idiot," Beka says, and Yuri remembers all at once that Beka's anger is lethal-edged, and rarely directed at Yuri, but he supposes this time he deserves it.

"He's so tangled up in trying to get in that locked-up-tight pussy he's not going to care what I do," Yuri says defensively. "He'll marry that bitch, you watch, just so he can fuck her. And then he'll realize he doesn't want pussy, and he'll be fucking screwed, and not in the fun way."

"I can't reason with you," Beka says. "JJ has strong beliefs. It isn't right to use them against him."

Yuri thinks Beka's probably talking about the stuff he said while his cock was ripping JJ apart.

"Fine. I won't tell him. Why would I, anyway?"

"Why do you do anything?" Beka asks. "Yura—"

"Just tell me you still love me," Yuri says, not even knowing why it's so important for him to hear it again. "That you forgive me."

"Oh, Yura," Beka whispers, and holds out his arms.

Yuri is decidedly _not_ teary-eyed when he steps into them, and Beka holds him.

Beka will always be there. Yuri has that, at least.


	10. Chapter 10

**St. Petersburg, Russia, Lilia's guest bathroom, after midnight, May 27th**

"Come on, pick up, pick up," Yuri mutters at his phone screen. It's been several weeks since their hiatus in Hasetsu, and Yuri's had only dismissive, surface conversations with Beka since then. Beka still acts like a friend, but he's been distant. Yuri has spent a lot of time practicing extra hard and trying not to worry about it.

Despite everything, he hasn't heard from JJ at all. He texted once, a feeler of sorts, but JJ's phone had autoresponded, and JJ had never bothered to follow up. Yuri is more hurt by this than he cares to admit.

But Yuri had been browsing Instagram one more time before bed, and JJ had posted a photo that had made Yuri go cold all over—and now he's curled up in the bathroom that connects to his bedroom, hiding out from Lilia.

When Beka finally answers, his face is lit by his phone, making him look like someone telling ghost stories around a campfire. His blankets are half-covering his head, and his hair, usually brushed off his forehead, is hanging into his eyes.

"Fuck, Yura, it's… shit, it's 3:30 in the morning. What are you _doing_?"

"Uh, calling you? It's an emergency." Yuri figures Beka will (hopefully) forgive him for the slight exaggeration.

Beka yawns, flips the blankets off his head, scrapes his hair back, and switches on his bedside lamp. He looks good, even with sleep creases from his pillow on his face. Yuri wishes he were lying in that bed next to him right now, cuddling up and able to sift through Beka's soft hair.

"What's going on, then?" Beka rolls onto his back, rubbing his chin with one hand. There's a dark shadow on his face; Yuri is jealous. He has yet to need to shave, only soft blond fuzz so far on his own chin. It reminds him of when Beka shaved his armpits for him—he wants to shave Beka's face. No, scratch that; first he wants to kiss Beka breathless and feel that stubble abrade his face.

"Have you seen JJ's latest post on Instagram?" Yuri hisses into the phone.

"No, Yura, I told you I unfollowed him, remember?" Beka sounds less than impressed with Yuri's definition of "emergency".

"Wait, I'll email you a link," Yuri says, fingers flying over the phone keyboard.

"Just tell me," Beka says on a sigh. "I don't need to see it."

But Yuri's already sent it, so Beka gives him a _one second_ gesture, and presumably goes to look at the picture. Yuri sucks his lower lip between his teeth and gnaws on it as he waits for Beka to see, to _understand_.

"Okay, Yura, so what?" Beka says when he comes back. He's got one eyebrow lifted. Yuri loves that expression; he wants to eat if off Beka's face. Which sounds weird, now that he thinks about it.

"Don't you see?" Yuri asks urgently. "Don't you get it?"

"It's a picture of JJ and Isabella," Beka says. "He posts those constantly."

"Ha!" Yuri crows, then covers his mouth; that was kind of loud. "I _knew_ it! You still track his Instagram activity, even if you don't follow him anymore."

"He's been doing that since they got engaged," Beka says, a dash of cold water over Yuri's glee. He'd been _so sure_ that Beka couldn't help stalking JJ like Yuri has been doing. "What's so different about this one?"

"He's wearing a ring! A _ring_. And the hashtags!"

"It's a promise ring, Yura. It signifies he won't have sex before marriage. He had it before, when he first started dating Isabella. After he was—after he finished with me."

That pain in Beka's voice makes Yuri wish he could reach into that photo of JJ and strangle him with the knot of his tie.

"But the hashtag!" Yuri insists. It reads:

**#promiseb4theLord #loveofmylife #June17th #weddingplanner**

"It's nothing less than we expected," Beka says tiredly. "How is this an emergency?"

"But he set a date!" Yuri is incensed at this. "Even after Hasetsu."

"You pushed him, Yura. You always know how to push people's buttons, and you always do it."

"Are you saying this is my fault somehow? I didn't tell him to fucking run off and get married. I didn't even think you could plan a wedding that soon. It's in only a couple of weeks!"

"He might mean next year. He probably does," Beka says. "Is that all you wanted, Yura? I'm tired."

"I'm going to text him," Yuri says decisively. "I have to _know_."

"He's probably not going to answer. I told you, you pushed him too hard."

"Stop fucking defending him!" Yuri is even angrier. "You're _my_ friend." He touches his phone screen as if putting his thumb over Beka's lip on the screen is somehow like doing it in real life.

"I'm going back to bed. Tomorrow is a day of training, and then I have to work at the club." Beka snuggles up more into his blankets. "Night, Yura."

"Wait—" Yuri says. Beka lifts that eyebrow again.

"Your Facebook," he says lamely. "Why did you change it?"

"Do we have to have this conversation _now_?" Beka asks. "It's really, really fucking late for me."

"Beka? What would you do if I were gay?" Yuri licks the backs of his top front teeth, stalling for time. He knows he should let Beka get back to sleep, but the thing with JJ has overset him, and he doesn't want to be alone. Not quite yet.

"Why do you think it would matter to me one way or the other whether you were?" Beka pauses. "I mean, other than the obvious, which is that I like you, I'm your friend because of _you_ , Yura, not your sexuality."

Yuri sucks on his teeth. It seems to him that if he were gay, it might be a good thing for Beka, but to the rest of the world? His career would be over. He'd lose his sponsorships and his fans alike. Hell, even JJ would probably never want to talk to him again. JJ's religion is against gays, Yuri knows that much.

"Because it _does_ matter," Yuri reasons, but before he can work out the rest of what he wants to say, Beka's shaking his head.

"You didn't stop being my friend when I came out to you," Beka points out.

Yuri doesn't know what to say to that. He never really thought about not being Beka's friend anymore.

"Is this the real reason you called?" Beka asks. "Because you think you might be gay?"

"I… should have said something sooner," Yuri mumbles close to the phone. "I _know_ I'm gay, now. Please don't hate me?"

"Yura…" Beka's voice is suddenly softer, with less of its usual edge. "Why would that make me hate you? I'm just glad you felt like you could tell me."

"I told JJ too," Yuri confesses. "But when I told JJ, I was angry. I don't even know if he took me seriously." Yuri taps his fingers on the side of the phone. "Do you think JJ is gay too?"

"That's up to JJ to figure out," Beka says. "I know it's not the answer you want to hear, but the truth is we can't decide that _for_ him. And JJ has a lot of _white noise_ to sift through. His religion, his girlfriend, his own idea of who he is—which sometimes seems to contradict the obvious."

"I don't get it, Beka. Why did JJ come to my hotel room all those months ago, intending to fuck me, if he isn't gay?"

"Because maybe he is. But it's not our business to force him to choose, Yura. You can't do that to someone else. Why are you so focused on JJ, instead of yourself?"

"It's… easier, I guess." Yuri leans back against the sink. "I don't know how to think of myself now. What if my grandpa is disappointed in me?"

" _I'm_ not disappointed in you," Beka says. "There are plenty of people who will accept you just as you are, Yura."

"Lilia figured it out," Yuri admits. "She said she went through this with Vitya. I guess… I'm so sorry, Beka. I should have probably told you first." Yuri twists a lock of hair around his fingers, then sucks on the end of it. Beka's brow furrows.

"Don't do that to your hair," he admonishes. "You'll make it matted. Lilia would kill you."

"But seriously, Beka, why does your relationship status now say 'it's complicated'?" Yuri asks.

"Because it is," Beka replies. "I want to be dating two different people, both of whom are too caught up in their own drama to be good relationship material."

"Who?" Yuri asks, feeling his face get hot. Sweat breaks out along his temples; he's too warm in this stupid hoodie while talking to Beka about… _boyfriends_. Strange, talking about fucking doesn't make him embarrassed. "Who do you want to fuck now?" _Instead of me_ , he thinks; even though he doesn't say it aloud, he thinks Beka probably knows he's thinking it.

"Yura? Who do you _think_?" Beka slowly licks his lower lip, then the upper. He raises the phone higher to get a wider shot, then kicks off his blankets entirely. He's sporting a pretty nice boner in his blue boxer briefs.

Yuri swallows roughly.

"Beka? Why are you… _hard_?"

"Fuck, Yura." Beka bites his lip and cups himself. "Because I love you, dammit. And you make me hot by every little thing you do, no matter what it is. Coming out to me was… inspiring. If you know what I mean."

"So it's not… someone else?"

"If I could be dating anyone, Yura, it would be you. I don't want anyone else."

"But what about JJ?" Yuri asks uncertainly. That second person Beka mentioned… "I thought…"

"I don't wanna influence you, Yura, but I can't let myself fall down that black hole again. JJ's shit is too thick to wade through at this point. That's what I meant by drama."

"But what about Hasetsu?" Yuri asks, remembering vividly the threesome they had.

"I'll do most anything to make you happy, Yura, even fucking JJ again. But that time in China, when I fucked JJ because he begged for it, that was a mistake. I think it just made him think even more about Izzy and God. I don't have time for that anymore."

"So what about me?" Yuri asks, feeling pathetic. How stupid, how fucking moronic of him, to _need_ Beka so badly.

"I forgive you, Yura, but please, if you have _any feelings at all_ for me, please don't fuck anyone else."

"Sorry," Yuri mumbles. "I was upset."

"I get that, but the appropriate response is still not to run off and fuck someone else's fiancé. You'll be lucky if Yuuri invites you to the wedding."

"I don't wanna go to that stupid fat piggy's wedding anyway," Yuri growls. "Bet he won't even fit into his tuxedo."

"Yura, Viktor will be there, too. He's been your role model for so long—"

"Not anymore. The shine wore off when I fucked him." Yuri immediately feels his face suffuse with red. He probably shouldn't have said that to Beka right now, when they were getting along again. Beka flinches, and Yuri wishes he was there so that he could kiss Beka's frown away.

"Do me a favor, Yura. Don't remind me of that again. It makes it hard to remember that I forgive you for it."

"I'm sorry, Beka," Yuri says. He thinks he may have apologized more in this one conversation than he has in the last six months. "Beka… if you still want to… I'll go out with you. Like, dating." Yuri's face must be the color of the setting sun by now.

"I appreciate the offer, Yura, but I'm too tired to decide if that's what I want right now."

"Please, Beka. It would make me so happy." Yuri combs his hair out of his eyes, so that Beka can see how earnest he is.

He knows how green his eyes must look in the bright glow of the phone screen. He wonders if Beka still thinks he has the eyes of a soldier—and if he wants him to.

"Okay, Yura," Beka gives in, gracefully. "We can try it. But I'm making no promises. You have to be on your best behavior. No fucking other people. No Viktor, and no random fangirls, either."

"I promise," Yuri says. His heart feels like it's expanding, and he doesn't know or understand why. "Take me out for coffee again?"

"The next time I see you, definitely. Now, Yura, it's after 4 a.m. May I please get some more rest?"

"Just tell me one more thing. Beka, will you dress up for me sometime? In your… uh… _other_ clothes." Yuri isn't sure why he's asking, just that he suddenly has a burning desire to see someone so obviously masculine indulge another side of his personality.

"I'll consider it," Beka says. "Goodnight, Yura. I'll talk to you soon."

"I guess we're boyfriends now," Yuri says, with a shy smile. "Night, Beka."

Just as Yuri hits the end call button, there is a knock on the door.

"Yuri Plisetsky," Lilia says in a low but terse, authoritative voice. "What are you doing up at this hour? You woke me. And tomorrow you are going to work on your quad flips again, plus I'd like you to brush up on your ballet. Your flexibility has been suffering."

Yuri throws open the door. He's overcome with the urge to hug Lilia, but he restrains himself with effort. She's her usual broomstick stiff self, but when she sees the look on his face, hers softens a little.

"I have a boyfriend," Yuri blurts out happily. He never thought that giving into girly feelings could feel this good. He wants to the whole world to know—even though he's perfectly aware that that's not possible.

"That's wonderful," Lilia says dryly, "but maybe you could have figured that out during the day? Go to bed, Yuri. If you don't give 100 percent tomorrow, I'm going to be very upset with you."

"I'm sorry, Lilia," Yuri says. He leaves the bathroom, and he feels Lilia's eyes on him as he creeps back to his room. Once there, he cuddles up with his cat, who meows and then begins purring.

His motor is what lulls Yuri to sleep.

&~&

**Moscow, Russia, June 20th**

"Are you ready?" Beka asks, tucking some of Yuri's hair into his hoodie. Yuri wishes he felt confident, but being Beka's boyfriend is _weird_. He's not used to this being an official relationship, with everything that entails.

"I hate having my fucking picture taken," Yuri grouses, and Beka's eyes sparkle a little.

"No, you really don't," he contradicts easily. "Don't you remember all those times when—"

"Shut up!" Yuri steps back, flips Beka off and examines himself in the mirror. Even for him, he's pale. His lips are blushed pink, but other than the almost fever-green of his eyes, that's the only color in his face. "This is stupid. They could have just used some fucking pictures off the internet."

"You know this is important, Yura. Being profiled for the upcoming Grand Prix Final circuit is a big deal."

He does know that, and he hates every fucking second of it. The only good thing—absolutely the only one—is that it means he gets to see Beka in person. But this situation, in general, blows. Flying to Moscow for a fucking magazine article, a special issue, to be featured in the same spread as Otabek Altin, the Hero of Kazakhstan.

If he fucks up at all… even a little… in the upcoming events, everyone is going to look back at this article and they will likely hold Otabek up in a pedestal. And Yuri will have fallen back to earth, like an angel with its wings torn off.

Beka must be able to see Yuri fretting because he comes up behind him, and wraps his arms around Yuri's middle.

"Relax, Yura. It's just a few action shots and an interview. Nothing you can't handle. Nothing you haven't done before."

"And a head shot," Yuri reminds him. The way he looks right now, any model shot of his face is going to come out horrendous. "I look like I've been smoking crack."

"Yeah… you kind of do." Beka squeezes him a little, leaving a kiss on his shoulder. Yuri can't feel it, and that makes him all kinds of upset. "How long have you been in Moscow, Yura?"

Shit, Beka _would_ have to ask. Yuri's grown at least half an inch over the last few months, and while Yakov insists that it's nothing: _You will skate just as beautifully as ever, and a growth spurt is usually more dramatic than this,_ Yuri knows in his heart he's running out of time.

So he lied to Lilia and Yakov and came to Moscow two days early, and in that extra time, he hasn't slept much, hasn't eaten hardly anything, and has been guzzling coffee in the hopes it _will_ stunt his growth—part of the reason he hasn't slept.

The other part of the reason is embracing him right now.

"Did you eat today?" Beka asks, stepping around him to stand between him and the mirror. "Don't lie to me."

Yuri opens his mouth to do just that when his stomach rumbles angrily.

"Jesus, Yura," Beka says. "You're not a kid. If you keep this up, you'll need professional help."

"I will not," Yuri says defiantly. "I didn't eat because of nerves." Partly true.

Beka is studying his eyes so hard Yuri thinks he's looking for the answers to life in there.

"Come on, stop it. Take a selfie with me." Yuri fishes his phone out of his pocket. Beka sighs.

"All right. But don't do it, Yura."

"Do what?" he asks innocently, and just as he hits the button, he kisses Beka off-center to his lips, on his chin. Beka, when Yuri glances at the photo, is almost smiling.

"Don't post that to Instagram," Beka says, adjusting Yuri's hoodie again. "Come on. We'll be late."

"Shit, I forgot to uh… brush my teeth. Meet you downstairs."

"No coffee date this time," Beka says, placing a warm kiss on his forehead. "I'm taking you to eat something." He shuts the door and Yuri swipes his phone awake.

He quickly sends a private message to JJ, complete with photo attached:

> see what ur missing? me an' Beka? boyfriends. hope pussy is worth it. the only kind i wanna be near is my cat.  
>  **#dontwishuwerehere #makingitofficial**

The biggest downside to being Beka's boyfriend now? Otabek won't allow them to fuck. He barely kisses Yuri. 

_I want to take it slow now, really make this time with you count_ , he'd said. Yuri grinds his teeth and wishes he were grinding on something else. Like Beka's fucking dick.

If he weren't about to be late for a photoshoot, he'd strip out of his jeans and cram a couple fingers up his ass until he came. All of his orgasms lately have been self-inflicted, and he doesn't know where Beka's getting the restraint.

"All right," he tells his reflection. "I'm going to _make_ Beka get me off tonight."

He follows Beka out the door.

&~&

**Moscow, Russia, Yuri & Beka's hotel room, Room 731, June 20**

"I can't believe Lilia let me stay in the same hotel room as you," Yuri says, snuggling up behind Beka where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor. Yuri spreads his legs so that he can straighten them out on either side of Beka and buries his nose in Beka's leather jacket.

Beka has explained to him that he has a project he needs to do for work, and so he's mixing music on his laptop.

"I guess she thought any chaperone was better than none," Beka replies absently.

"But I could've stayed with my grandpa and she still suggested that I stay with you," Yuri points out.

Yuri thinks about how Lilia knows he and Beka are boyfriends now, and wonders about that. Maybe she actually wanted them to have a chance to be alone together.

"I couldn't tell you what she was thinking, Yura. Are you unhappy you didn't get to see him? We could stop by and visit, if you want."

"Maybe," Yuri considers. "If I don't just decide to keep you in bed with me the whole time."

"Good luck with that," Beka says, a faint thread of amusement in his voice. "Maybe I want to go sightseeing with you."

Yuri abandons that conversation for one that _he_ finds more interesting. The only sightseeing he really wants to do is of Beka's nude body.

"Are we going to _bed_ soon?" he asks, putting special emphasis on the word "bed". Beka has entirely too many clothes on still. Beka reaches up and covers Yuri's hand with his, a quick stroke of his thumb over the back of Yuri's hand, before returning it to his keyboard.

"The less you distract me," Beka says, "the sooner we can sleep."

"Sleep?" Yuri knows he sounds disappointed. "Beka, is that really all we're gonna do? Sleep?"

"You know I want to take things slow, now," Beka says. "Yura, give me a little bit of time to finish this, would you?"

It's probably going to get him in trouble, but Yuri slides his hand down over Beka's t-shirt under his jacket, dipping down into his lap, and his fingers are a hairsbreadth away from his destination when Beka grabs his wrist.

"No, Yura," he says, and Yuri sighs dramatically, pulling away.

"Maybe I can get Lilia to send me a picture of Potya," Yuri muses. "I miss my cat. That's the thing I hate most about traveling."

Beka turns away from his computer for a moment, grabbing Yuri around the waist and tackling him to the floor. Yuri's surprised by Beka's sudden playful smile, before he leans down over Yuri and kisses him, quickly and gently, and Yuri can feel his world tilt on its axis for a second. Then Beka's hand is digging around in Yuri's sweatpants pocket, bringing out his phone.

"Read Instagram," he says, and drops a kiss on his nose. "I promise I'll be done soon, and then we can sleep."

Once Beka gets up, returning to his laptop, Yuri splays all out across the floor, lifting his phone up.

Instagram isn't that interesting, except that JJ has linked to the article that profiled him earlier in the month. Even though Yuri knows it's just going to make him seem stalkerish, and that he ought to do what Beka did and just unfollow JJ already, he opens the link.

"'My fiancee and I are so grateful to my sponsors and fans,'" Yuri reads aloud. The picture is a huge closeup of JJ's disgustingly beautiful face, with that trademark saucy wink and his fingers crooked into "J's". "We're hoping for a June wedding next year after I win the Grand Prix Final.' _He winks_ , it says," Yuri grumbles. "I guess they didn't get married. And also, he has some nerve assuming he's going to win."

"Yura, I told you it was probably next year. Can't you find _something_ to do that isn't distracting? Ten more minutes. I swear."

"Bek _aaaa_ ," Yuri whines. "I just wanna spend some time with you."

"We will," Beka says. "And don't forget, we went out for dinner. Thank you for eating with me."

Beka is tactful enough not to say, _thank you for eating_ , in the general sense.

His dark head bends back over his work, and Yuri flops his arm over his eyes. There's nothing interesting on the internet right now—or maybe that's because he just wants to mess around with Beka.

"I think I'll just look at gay porn," Yuri remarks. He peeks out at Beka from beneath his arm. "Or maybe just scroll through those pictures of you and JJ on my phone."

Beka hums quietly, and Yuri can't tell if it's directed at him or because of his music.

Rolling his eyes, Yuri opens the gallery on his phone.

"Oh, look, Viktor," he says brightly. This is the wrong thing to say, even if it works at getting a rise out of Beka.

"All right, Yura, you win," Beka says in a long-suffering tone. "I'll finish it in the morning. Are you that sleepy?"

"No, I want you to bone me," Yuri says, jerking his hips up from the floor. He reaches down and cups himself, bringing his cock to semi-hardness. Beka doesn't even look down; he keeps his eyes on Yuri's face.

"Not tonight, dear," he says, and it takes Yuri a split second to realize Beka's joking. He widens his eyes.

"That's funny, you fucker," he returns, with what he hopes is _just the right_ gleam in his eye. But Beka just shrugs out of his leather jacket, hanging it up on the hook on the back of the hotel room door.

"You sleeping in those?" Beka asks, indicating Yuri's sweatpants and heavy t-shirt. Beka's shirt comes off next, and he goes to stand in front of the mirror mounted over the dresser. Yuri pouts, perfectly aware that this isn't a strip show, no matter how much he wants it to be.

"No, of course not," Yuri says. He picks himself up off the floor and yanks down his sweatpants. His underwear are scarlet red and have laced edging. He wonders if Beka will understand that he bought these just for Beka's benefit. But Beka is unzipping his jeans and slowly rolling them down his hips, then pushing them down until they pool on the floor.

The underwear Beka is wearing are simple, serviceable black cotton, worn soft-looking. His ass is spectacularly displayed by the way the boxer briefs cling to it. Beka doesn't take off his t-shirt, to Yuri's dismay. He was hoping to gawk at Beka, at least.

Pulling off his own t-shirt, though, he fingers the little barbell in his belly button and stands, arching his body slightly forward, jutting one hip out in the most sexualized provocative pose he can think of. Well, in this position, anyway. He wonders idly if climbing onto the bed and lifting one leg as high as he can while lightly scraping at his hole through the red panties will get Beka to change his mind.

"Into bed, Yura," Beka says. "Did you brush your teeth? I'm going to piss and then brush mine. Do you need the bathroom?"

"No, I'm fine," Yuri says, slumping back into a regular standing position. He watches Beka walk into the bathroom, close the door, and flick the light on. He doesn't exactly want to watch Beka pee, but come on! Just a _glimpse_ of that gorgeous dick tonight?

He rubs his aching cock through the panties and then shrugs. He gets into his bed and lies there, face turned up towards the ceiling, as the water runs in the bathroom sink.

Beka's face is somewhat red and obviously freshly scrubbed when he re-enters the room, and he gives Yuri the shyest, most genuine smile ever, before getting into his own bed. He pulls the chain on the lamp between the beds and the lights go out.

Minutes pass, and Yuri is trying, really he is, but…

"Beka?"

"Mmph. Yes, Yura?" He sounds sleepy, like maybe he was drifting off.

"I didn't get a goodnight kiss." It's so strange, to have Beka be this close and simultaneously this distant. "Are you punishing me for fucking Viktor?" he asks in a small voice, but it sounds like a cavernous echo in the silence.

"Shit, Yura," Beka says, the expletive soft and actually kind of fond. "No. I just. I don't wanna fuck it up. Do you know how long I've wanted you?"

Yuri rolls onto his side and props his head up on his fist.

"Then fuck me!" he says. "You won't fuck it up. I swear." He tries to read Beka's expression in the dark, but he can't really see him.

"Would you please just trust me?" Beka asks. "We have five more days in Moscow, Yura. It's plenty of time."

"So you'll fuck me before we leave?" Yuri's cock stirs at the thought.

"Jesus fuck, Yura. Go to bed."

Yuri lets the silence hang again for several minutes, then gets up and pads over to Beka's bed. He walks around it to the side facing the window, so that he can see Beka's features from the streetlights glowing dully through the curtains. Beka's eyes are closed, so he starts almost violently when Yuri slides onto the sheets beside him.

"Seriously, Yura—"

He cuts him off with a kiss. It's not dirty; more sensual, feeling Beka's lips soften as he carefully coaxes his way into Beka's mouth.

He doesn't let it linger, before twisting onto his back and pressing his hip and shoulder against Beka. Then he runs his fingers down his own torso, plucking gently at his nipples before going lower, flicking his belly button piercing, till finally he has his palm curved over his cock. Beka's breathing hitches, and Yuri takes that as encouragement; he strokes himself through the panties, biting his lower lip as his dick leaks a little and he can feel the wetness spread outwards through the fabric.

By now, Beka is panting, and in his peripheral vision, Yuri can see that Beka's watching him intently, whether he wanted to get involved in something like this or not. What the fuck ever. He doesn't have to fuck Yuri tonight.

But Yuri is going to make damn sure he knows what he's missing: what is right in front of him, not only ripe for the taking, but _begging_ for it.

He caresses himself lightly at first, causing his cock to swell and harden almost all the way; the little breathy gasp Beka makes—and he's only looking at Yuri's face!—causes him to stiffen completely.

Slipping his hand beneath the elastic, he moans, and it isn't even intentional to torment Beka. His dick is hot and pulsing with blood running thickly under the surface, and he gulps. His hand feels so fucking good, even if he wishes Beka would touch him.

"Please," he begs softly, "please touch me, Beka."

So certain that Beka is going to resist, he's actually more shocked when Beka's hand suddenly covers his, but on the outside of Yuri's panties. The audible intake of breath Beka makes is pretty gratifying.

"You— Are these—?"

"Do you like them?" Yuri asks as coquettishly as he can manage with his dick so thoroughly stimulated.

"Oh God," Beka breathes. He reaches into Yuri's panties and nudges his hand out of the way; Yuri relinquishes possession of his cock to Beka, who doesn't tease.

His hand is clever, his fingers even cleverer as he swipes fluid from the slit and strokes down Yuri's shaft with the precome making everything slick and smooth.

Then he grasps Yuri firmly and begins to jack his hand up and down, causing Yuri's foreskin to bunch up. Beka exposes his cockhead completely and his thumb rubs over his slit, making Yuri tingle with little shivers.

" _Fuck_ , yeah," Yuri moans, hips straining upwards. It's too quick, everything's happening too fast, and Yuri's body is tightening and his head is spinning.

Yuri rolls onto his side so fast he almost hurts himself when Beka's hand is crushed against his dick for a second, then Yuri yanks Beka's hand away from him, thrusting his hips forward, causing his cock to collide with Beka's—thankfully deliciously hard beneath those amazing underwear. Yuri literally can't wait to see Beka in panties now. It must be an awe-inspiring sight.

He grinds their cocks together, and pretty soon Beka is rutting back against him too, the friction almost unbearable but at the same time not quite _enough_.

Their hips are working at a punishing rhythm, rubbing their cocks together almost too violently, until Yuri grabs Beka's hand and jams one of his fingers in his mouth. As their cocks continue to stimulate each other, Yuri sucks on Beka's finger, swirling his tongue around it, licking at it until Beka groans and shudders and a thick wetness soaks Yuri's panties, Beka's cock throbbing and jerking.

Pulling Beka's finger from his mouth, Yuri takes it and brings it between his legs, nudging the elastic of the leg out of the way, and Beka doesn't need any urging to work his finger into Yuri's puckered hole, crooking it and fucking him hard on it as Yuri rolls his hips against Beka until, finally—at last!—he comes with a choked off cry.

There is silence, ringing in its intensity, and then Beka's tongue is on Yuri's cheeks, licking at tears Yuri didn't realize he'd shed. But they aren't tears of sadness.

Beka was right. This orgasm was nothing like his others, not now that they're dating. Beka being Yuri's boyfriend has ratcheted up the emotion in the sex; it's not just sex anymore. This is nearly frightening to Yuri until Beka kisses him, softly and swiftly on the lips.

"It's okay, Yura. This is what I meant. What I wanted." He kisses Yuri again, more lingeringly this time, as Yuri's body is still soaring on wings from his orgasm. "I love you. Now back to your own bed, and go to sleep."

Yuri doesn't understand how Beka can kick him out of bed after that, but he gets up, wincing at the sticky mess in his panties, and strips out of them unabashedly. Beka's apparently down for the count, sprawled on his back, the stain of his climax eminently visible on the front of his boxer briefs.

Even though he knows he shouldn't, Yuri silently gets his phone and snaps Beka's picture. Then he sends it to JJ.

He doesn't sleep for a long time, too busy staring at his phone in the hope of a reply.

&~&

**Moscow, Russia, Room 731, June 21**

Beka's crying in his sleep, and Yuri doesn't know why. He's debating whether to wake Beka up when his phone chimes; going to pick it up, there _is_ a text from JJ. Yuri watches Beka a minute more and then ducks into the bathroom, swiping his phone awake. The message is short, sweet, and cryptic:

_open the door_

Throwing on his leopard print robe, which he's finally had dry-cleaned, Yuri casts a quick glance at Beka, then strides over the door and stands there, wondering what the fuck he's doing. What did JJ do _now_? Yuri has no idea what might be on the other side of that door, and he probably shouldn't answer it.

But, fuck it. He throws open the door. And his mouth drops open, because JJ is lounging against the doorframe, one arm raised above his head.

"Miss me, kitten?" he asks, smirking. Yuri wishes he were taller so he could punch JJ in his smug mouth.

"The _fuck_ are you _doing_ here?" Yuri demands. "I thought you were too busy making nice with the priests on your knees."

JJ goes white, then fire-engine red.

"I knew you were a little bitch, but you fucking take that back," JJ says in a low, furious tone. Yuri blinks and then smiles, cat-with-the-canary.

"It's nice to hear you cursing again, like your real self." This is an obvious dig that JJ's forays into being more dedicated to his religion are actually just false entreaties to be someone _better_ —when he was fine before. Obnoxious and disliked, yes, but at least he wasn't a _phony_. "Besides, what did you _think_ I meant?"

It feels ridiculously good to get the better of JJ; his cocky attitude has already been shaken. And sure, maybe Yuri _was_ implying certain things about the Catholic Church, but he's not going to admit as much to JJ.

"You—" JJ ruffles his dark hair, and for once Yuri doesn't think it's to make himself seem more sexy; rather it seems like agitation. "Where's Otabek?" he settles on, instead.

"Still sleeping," Yuri says. "You didn't answer my question."

"I asked Leo where you guys were. I wanted—no, I _had_ —to see you. How could you just—"

"Just _what_ , JJ? Move on without you?" Yuri crowds up against JJ until he's standing in the hall, and then shuts the door almost all the way, but not quite because the room key is inside and Beka's still sleeping. And probably still crying, which means Yuri needs to get rid of JJ as quickly as possible.

"I know," JJ says, "and I can't make any promises—Izzy would kill me if she knew where I was—but I just. _Yuri_." JJ takes Yuri by surprise with a giant bear hug, and he ducks his head down towards Yuri's neck, breathing heavily like he's desperate for anything, even just a fucking stupid hug.

Against Yuri's will, he inhales; JJ's cologne is subtle and spicy, and brings back all sorts of memories. He doesn't even know when he did it, but his hands are on the back of JJ's head, the short hairs of his undercut tickling his fingers.

And then he doesn't know what devils have gotten into him—maybe the demons of JJ's religion?—but he's tugging JJ's face towards his and smothering his breath with a kiss that makes him feel like the worst sort of drunken idiot: the kind that hasn't had a drop, and is still doing the impossibly unwise thing.

JJ hesitates for only heartbeats before he's returning the kiss, and Yuri reaches back behind him, pushes against the door, and drags JJ into the room. Once inside, Yuri slams JJ back against the door, shoving his knee between JJ's legs, and fucking _kissing him for all he's worth_.

Yuri loses track of how long they practically eat out of each other's mouths, before he finally jerks back, breathing heavy, and wipes his mouth. JJ's eyes are so dilated he can barely see the blue, and his dick is very hard and hot even through JJ's jeans, where it's pressing into Yuri's stomach.

"Fuck," Yuri says. "You fucking suck, you know that? You drag us through all that shit, and then you show up here, and how can I resist your fucking obnoxious blue eyes and— _Fuck_."

"Kitten," JJ murmurs, tracing one of Yuri's eyebrows with his fingertip. "I love how blond you are, that your eyebrows are practically invisible."

"You mean, like you've been for weeks?" Yuri shoves away from him. "You broke Beka's heart."

JJ's eyes widen, and Yuri wants to eat the foot he just jammed in his mouth. What if JJ didn't know? Yuri can't remember if Beka ever said that JJ knew about Beka's feelings—and it wasn't Yuri's place to divulge them, anyway. Shit.

"Is there… no way you could ever be… I don't know. Just a little nicer?" JJ's lips are puffy and red from the force of Yuri's kiss—he distinctly remembers biting hard enough that blood seeped into his mouth—and his cheeks are a delicate china pink.

"Not likely," Yuri says. "Why should I?"

"I thought we were _past_ this," JJ says desperately. "You haven't been this nasty in—"

"That was before you fucking _abandoned_ us," Yuri hurls at him furiously. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I don't know what got into my fucking head. I'm with Beka now. You had your chance, JJ—and you blew it. You chose an impersonal, possibly nonexistent _god_ over us. Fuck you."

Which is right about when Beka steps up behind Yuri, a hand on his shoulderblade, and says, voice husky from what is probably a combination of sleep and crying,

"Am I still dreaming?"

Yuri flinches. So Beka was dreaming about _JJ_? How long has he been awake for?

"Hey, Beks," JJ says sheepishly. "I just thought I'd drop by." He slides a glance at Yuri, then continues, "The kitten thought it would be a nice invitation to show me what you looked like last night."

Beka's hand tightens a little on his back. _Crap_. Fuckfuckfuck. JJ wasn't supposed to _tell him_!

"Yura, for fuck's sake, you are absolutely appalling when unsupervised." Beka rubs his shoulder once, then moves to stand beside him. He laces their fingers together, and regards JJ with narrowed eyes.

Oh.

So Yuri caved and kissed JJ the first chance he got, but Beka's definitely not swayed by deep blue eyes, sharply cut muscles, and all that allegedly winsome charm that JJ tries to use on everyone. Nope, Beka isn't being enthralled by it.

Or by his perfectly sculpted lips, that are still swollen from Yuri biting them.

"So. JJ." Beka's voice is hard, inflexible. "You're in Moscow."

"Obviously," JJ shrugs. "Please, Beks. You don't have to be as cold as the ice we skate on."

"Maybe I do, though," Beka replies. He's downright clenching Yuri's hand now, so much it hurts.

"Beka," he hisses, shaking his hand. Beka relents, but only a little; he keeps Yuri's hand clasped with his.

"Maybe he's changed?" Yuri doesn't know why he's suddenly _defending_ JJ, but maybe it's because he looks so goddamn pathetic being rejected by Beka.

"C'mon guys," JJ pleads, "just do this for me? I need you. I need you both. Beka, I have to have your hands on me again. Yuri, I have to see you stuff yourself as full as you can. I just. _Please_."

"Are you going home to Isabella?" Beka asks darkly. "I don't want to be party to some pity-fuck, JJ."

"You know I _have_ to," JJ says even more desperately. "But that doesn't mean… Look, I can do it. I can handle both. And it's not—it wouldn't be a pity-fuck."

"You're going to date three people at once?" Yuri asks incredulously. JJ flushes and looks down.

"I'm not dating… either of you. But I need to be fucked, so badly. I can't live without it. I'll do anything."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Beka says. "I just started dating Yuri. I don't wanna fuck it up."

But Yuri misses JJ's giant cock. He misses his stupid smarmy attitude and his fucking annoying pet names. He just _misses_ JJ, dammit. Fuck.

"Beka…" he says, turning to face his boyfriend. He links their other hands. "I wanna do it."

"But, Yura…"

"I'm still _your_ boyfriend, that's not going to change. JJ's got too much damage for more than anything but fucking, and I'm not stupid enough to date someone who's cheating on someone else."

"That's rich, Yura," Beka says dryly. "You've done your share of cheating."

Crap. What if he tells JJ about Viktor?

"I know, I'm really sorry. But I came all the way here. Do you want me on my hands and knees? Begging? I will. _Please_ , Beks."

"Do it," Yuri says. "Get on your fucking knees and put your hands behind your back until I say you can touch me."

"Yura?" Beka asks, but Yuri lets go of his hands.

"At least let me punish him a little," Yuri says. He stares at JJ until he drops to his knees; Yuri allows his robe to gape open. "Make me hard," he orders, and JJ starts out by rubbing Yuri's thighs with his lips, from the outer curve until he's stroking the inside of them, using a hint of tongue.

"Your skin is so soft," JJ murmurs, and Yuri reaches down, fists JJ's long hair on the top of his head, and _pulls_.

"Don't talk. Shut up and fucking get me hard. Use your hands now." Yuri doesn't know what Beka's thinking; he's vaguely aware that Beka has gone to sit on the edge of Yuri's bed. "I'm no fucking girl. See that cock? I'm gonna gag you with it. Till you choke on my dick and the only thing you can do is swallow my come so that I let you breathe. You got that?"

JJ slowly rolls Yuri's balls in his hand, and licks his lips. Yuri is instantly fully hard. He grasps his own cock by the shaft and slaps JJ on the face with it. JJ's mouth falls slightly open, and Yuri can see the shine of saliva on his lips.

"You like that? You perverted fuck," Yuri says. "I could beat you with my dick and, what, it makes your mouth water? Can't wait for me to fuck your mouth?"

JJ looks like he _really_ wants to say something, but he restrains himself admirably. Yuri smacks him in the face with his dick again, this time bumping his wounded lower lip. JJ moans at that, and Yuri aims his cockhead at JJ's parted lips and begins to push in.

He doesn't give JJ any time to react, just thrusts in completely, as far as he can. His cock nudges the back of JJ's throat, and Yuri's control slips just a little. He winds JJ's hair more tightly around his fist and hangs on as JJ begins to suck him like a pro.

There's no resistance at all from JJ as Yuri fucks his mouth almost brutally. His lips are going to be abraded and raw, and Yuri, just thinking about it, shouts with pleasure.

"JJ," he says urgently, and JJ slides his palm up over Yuri's ass, then his finger is fucking in and out of Yuri's hole in a rhythm that complements Yuri's thrusts into his mouth. That's just enough to send Yuri over the edge, but he loses his grip slightly and his cock pops out of JJ's mouth, spraying jizz all over his face. And, fuck, but it's _war_ : he deliberately aims for JJ's hair. Or it's retaliation at least.

"Are you done?" Beka asks, voice kind of cold. Yuri lets go of JJ.

"Sit there," he says, "and don't move until I say you can." Then Yuri goes over and sits down in front of Beka, placing his hands on Beka's thighs. He runs his hands up and down them, trying not to think about the prickly hair that Beka has, and he doesn't.

"Yura, I…" but Beka doesn't seem to know what he wants to say.

"It's just JJ," Yuri says, "he was already a part of this."

"Maybe I don't want to share this time," Beka says with a solemn shake of his head. Yuri grips his thighs and leans in, close enough to see the stains where tears tracked down his face. He speaks softly, so JJ can't hear him.

"What were you dreaming about, Beka?" Yuri asks, trying to modulate his tone so that he doesn't sound as loud and abrasive as he usually tries to be. "Was it JJ?"

Beka flinches and Yuri realizes he's hit a nerve. Beka's eyes track every movement JJ makes, and Yuri thinks maybe he's denying himself out of some sense of misplaced guilt.

"It was… so stupid, Yura. We were walking hand and hand through the streets of Quebec, and he was showing me around. Smiling. But not _that_ smile, you know the one. No, it was the smile he used to save just for me, when we were dating." Beka shrugs ruefully. "Or when I thought we were dating, anyway. I didn't realize what a closet case he was back then."

"He still is," Yuri mutters under his breath. "We could send Isabella an anonymous message about how he's cheating," Yuri suggests hopefully. Beka seems to snap out of his melancholy at that.

"Fuck, no, Yura. That's an awful thing to do." He touches Yuri's hands for a second, then pushes them off his lap and stands up.

"But he _is_ cheating," Yuri says with what he assumes is perfect logic. "Shouldn't she know what she's getting into?"

"That's up to JJ, you know that. We can't force his hand."

Yuri decides to take matters into his own hands anyway.

"JJ?" he barks, and JJ's head shoots up, eyes glittering like stars as he gazes at Yuri in suspense. "Do you want to be my boyfriend? Is that what you'd hoped for when you flew halfway around the world? Shit, JJ, why didn't you just hire an escort to fuck you?"

"Because…" JJ's gaze drops to the floor. "I didn't think _you'd_ care, kitten, if I did that. But I was afraid of… of… what Beks might think. Of me."

This stumps Yuri. He was worried about _Beka_? That's what this is about—that he needed a good fucking and he couldn't find a way to get it without involving Beka?

Yuri is a bit annoyed about this, though he's not sure why. He's been trying to get Beka and JJ to play nice, and shouldn't this help? He turns to study Beka, whose face is somewhat pale, and his features are tight with an emotion Yuri can't identify.

"You were worried about _me_?" Beka says, echoing Yuri. "I thought you didn't want—JJ, you left me in China. You said it was over."

"I know," JJ returns miserably. "I tried. God, Beks, kitten, I've tried so fucking hard to be a good Catholic, and a decent fiance, but all the time I'm with Izzy lately—every time I go to Mass—all I can think about is… well. It's more abstract than just thinking about your faces. It's not the fucking I think about. It's the fact that I know I hurt you, Beks."

Yuri feels like he just took a bite out of something sour and undesirable.

"What about me, Jean-fucking-Jacques?" he demands. Beka's hand is suddenly on his shoulder, silently entreating him to be more gentle, to tone it down.

"He's groveling," Beka breathes against his ear, making Yuri shiver. "Let him have his say."

"I didn't think you liked me," JJ says in surprise. Before Yuri realizes he's doing it, he's snarled,

"I _love_ you, you fucking idiot."

Silence descends on the room like a bomb—the verbal bomb Yuri just dropped in their midst. Beka's hand shakes on his shoulder.

"Kitten?" JJ's face has such hope carved across it. His cheeks are burning red, but he looks like Yuri just handed him an Olympic gold medal or something.

"Yes," Yuri says crankily. "I do. I don't know why. Shithead." Then he covers Beka's hand with his, steadying it. Beka's reaction has caused something to crack open inside of Yuri's chest. "I think I love you both. God, I hate myself."

"That's not a bad thing, kitten!" JJ says eagerly. "God is made of love, it's natural to—"

"Even for gays?" Yuri breaks into his stupid religious tangent. "It's okay for gays too? God, you're such an idiot," Yuri says in disgust.

"And you're not?" JJ frowns. "All this time I thought you hated my guts—and I mean, completely and totally—and it turns out you… no, fuck. Yuri, are you lying to get back at me?"

Yuri feels his body actually vibrate with anger. Like he'd fucking admit to loving JJ if it weren't true!

"No," Beka interjects, squeezing Yuri's shoulder as if to hold him back from jumping JJ and jamming his fist into his face. "He's telling the truth."

JJ lets a cautious smile spread across his face.

"Please don't hate me, Beks," JJ says in a soft voice. "I came all this way for you."

"But not me? Jesus, _thanks_ ," Yuri says sarcastically. "I knew there was a reason I didn't like you."

"Pretty sure you have nearly countless reasons," Beka quips.

"Well, okay, there's his stupid _face_ , and that fucking idiotic hair…"

Beka clears his throat.

"Shit, sorry, it totally looks good on you! I think you need a motorcycle to pull it off, though," Yuri says, verbally flailing.

JJ is actually laughing quietly at this, and all of a sudden Yuri can breathe easier, as if the pressure from a storm has finally relented.

"Can we be friends, then?" JJ asks hopefully. "You know, with extra benefits?"

"So you _did_ want boyfriends," Yuri says, belaboring the point. "Or at least, you wanted Beka."

"I'll always want you too, kitten, but you've always seemed so out of reach." JJ scratches at the dried come flaking off his cheek. "This is getting super itchy," he whines.

"That never stopped you before," Yuri says. "You were so fucking obnoxious and persistent, and you never fucking shut up. The next time I fuck you, I'm totally gagging you again."

JJ's fingers twitch against his thighs; he obviously really likes that idea.

"I want to fuck you," JJ says. "Both of you. Please."

"No." Beka crosses over to stand in front of JJ, and he stands there, muscles coiled like a spring about to snap. "I'm going to punch you in your pretty face first," he says, "and then, _maybe_ , we'll fuck _you_."

"Beka, but—"

"You don't think he deserves it?" Beka asks Yuri in a tight voice.

"Well, yes, I mean, I always want to punch him in his stupid face, but—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish, because Beka draws his arm back, and closes his fist on the way towards JJ's face. Yuri doesn't think Beka actually punches him very hard, but JJ's lip starts to bleed and he topples backward. He's surprised, Yuri thinks, by Beka's sudden violence, but he's resigned to it, too.

"Do you feel better?" JJ asks from where he's sprawled on the floor. He smears the blood on his lips. It mixes with the drying come and it looks like strawberry ice cream coating his mouth. "Fuck, Izzy's going to ask questions."

"You deserved it," Beka says, shaking out his fist. "Now, we can be friends. But. Hear me, JJ. Fuck me over again, and there's no more second and third chances."

"I got that," JJ says. "The feel of your fist hitting me drove that point home, thanks."

"Now, kiss him to seal the deal," Yuri urges Beka. His boyfriend drops to his knees, cradling JJ's head in his hands and lifting him back to a sitting position before leaning in with a very distinct purpose.

Yuri's almost afraid Beka's going to hit him again, before their lips are slickly connected, and Beka's moaning and clutching at JJ.

Yuri steps backward, plopping down on the edge of the nearest bed, and watching them closely as they go from kissing to fucking _making out_ , complete with groping and filthy noises from them both.

His cock likes the show, a lot. Yuri grabs himself and he hardens immediately again. Time for round two.

"I'm going to start to think you could both get on fine without me," Yuri remarks, glib but with a sharpness to it. "Enough, already. You're not just going to fuck each other in front of me, are you?"

They break apart, and when they look at Yuri, their expressions are almost identical: like they're going to devour him before dinner. Maybe he _is_ dinner. Yuri is actually perversely pleased about that.

"We doing this, kitten?" JJ asks, and it's Yuri's turn to smirk. Nice of him to know who's _really_ in charge.

&~&

**Moscow, Russia, Room 731, June 22**

Yuri is absolutely fucking _balls deep_ inside JJ when his obnoxious Theme of King JJ plays—clearly his ringtone. Yuri jams two fingers in alongside his throbbing cock and tries to distract JJ, but the idiot isn't quite far gone enough, apparently.

"Hand me—ah!—my phone, would you, Beks?"

Beka is busy eating out Yuri's ass, and Yuri thinks that if he stops, even for _one second_ , he might die.

"Don't you fucking dare," he growls, and slams particularly hard into JJ. The idiot moans and his hands, up next to his head, squeeze the pillows in a death grip. The phone stops ringing.

Oh, fantastic, Yuri's thinking, before it trills a text message alert.

"Okay, fine," he pants, snagging the phone from the bedside table. He swipes it awake and reads the message. "'Missed you at Bible study,'" he says aloud for JJ's benefit. "It's from Isabella. That bitch, she—"

JJ surprises all three of them by clenching down on Yuri's cock, screaming, and spattering Yuri with come. Jesus fuck.

"Did you actually just _get off_ on Isabella texting you during sex?" Yuri's so incredulous his impending orgasm is suddenly a distant memory. He pulls out of JJ and dislodges Beka. "You can finish off," he says.

Beka doesn't complain, just retakes his place between those spread thighs, resuming his turn to fuck into JJ's willing, tight ass.

For his part, Yuri flops sideways down onto the bed and plays with himself idly, now getting off more on watching Beka screw JJ hard and fast.

In fact, when Beka's neck muscles strain, and his ass muscles flex, and he _comes_ , Yuri comes too, just from the beautiful sight of it.

"God, yeah, _fuck_ , yeah," Yuri moans, milking himself through a delirious orgasm.

JJ whines in his throat and writhes under Beka, pulling at his hair now.

"Yes, Beks. _Yes_. Right—ah—there!"

Beka must drive particularly hard against JJ's prostate, because his cock is filling with blood again already, and even though Beka must be losing his erection by now, and be too sensitive so soon after orgasm, he pounds into JJ just long enough to hurl JJ back over that precipice _again_.

"Okay, now that's no fair," Yuri complains. "JJ got off _twice_."

"It's okay, kitten," JJ says breathlessly. "The King will take care of you."

"Oh my God," Yuri groans, and closes his eyes. "Enough with that shit, JJ. We don't like you because you're a king. We like you because you're _not_."

And then all three of them lapse into silence because Yuri just admitted to _liking_ JJ, too.

Well, this week has been just full of surprises.

"Come lie next to me," JJ offers. "Sleep with me."

"I just did," Yuri mutters.

"No, _just_ sleep," JJ clarifies. Beka climbs down from the bed and comes around it, slipping back onto the mattress behind Yuri, spooning him with his arms around his middle. Yuri relents and cuddles up to JJ.

Tomorrow JJ has to go home, and none of them know how he's going to deal with this.

Will he shut Yuri and Beka out again?


	11. Chapter 11

**St. Petersburg, Russia, Yuri's home rink, July 15, JJ's birthday**

"Hey, Yura, what's up with your lock screen?" Mila asks, prodding Yuri in the side with her foot.

Yuri covers his phone screen, glaring at her.

"Butt out, you hag," Yuri growls. She just twirls lazily around and then puts her chin on his head, which makes Yuri seethe.

"Seriously, though, why is JJ's face your lock screen, and what happened to him?"

His lock screen is no longer his cat; no, now it's JJ in a photo Yuri took of JJ as he was sleeping, just before he left Moscow. His eye is deliciously black and his split lip is extra puffy because Yuri had kept nibbling at the wound every time that they kissed. Yuri likes looking at JJ when he's all abused and used. He'll never admit, under pain of death, that JJ's relaxed sleeping face was awfully endearing.

"He fell attempting a quad toe loop," Yuri says shortly. "Landed right on his face, or so he says. Shame he didn't break his nose."

"You're so vindictive," Mila remarks. She plays with his hair, pulling it back from his face. "But I think people get fooled by how cute of a little kitten you are."

"Don't call me that," he says more viciously than he means to. Mila drops his hair and stops hanging over him.

"What the fuck, Yuri. Loosen up, brat." She swoops onto him, and his phone barely stays in his hand as she raises him above her head.

She does that way too fucking much and Yuri _hates_ it. Damn her, can't she just mind her own fucking business?

"Put me down, you hag! You know Yakov said he'd make us do a pair routine if he caught us again!" Yuri flails his arms and legs.

"Not until you tell me why JJ is sleeping all pretty on your phone screen!"

"I will never fucking tell you anything! Gah!" He manages to land a kick when she's distracted, and she doesn't even try to be nice about it, she just drops him.

"OW! Shit, what is wrong with you?" Yuri screams. He picks himself up off the floor. He wipes dust off his track suit and examines his phone to make sure it's not cracked or broken.

"Oh, I see Yakov coming," Mila says, and escapes. She probably knows Yuri would find a way to get her back if she stuck around. Once she's gone, Yuri unlocks his phone and quickly opens his contact list.

He has a new group in his phone: _boyfriends_. He also has a brand new password on his phone. No telling what someone like Mila would do with the ammunition that he has at _least_ one boyfriend.

Right now the only people who know are the three of them, and Lilia—but Lilia doesn't know about JJ. Yuri confided in her about dating Beka—which made her actually smile—and definitely did not mention that he's the kind of slutty teenager who needs _two_ dicks to be satisfied. 

Not that that fact seems to bother either of his boyfriends, though Yuri's actually not sure if Beka realizes he considers JJ a boyfriend too. It's weird, but Yuri's spent a lot of his internet phone time lately looking up polyamory. The problem is all parties involved are supposed to be in agreement, and Yuri doesn't know if Beka actually wants to be in a threeway relationship with JJ. 

Besides which, JJ is dividing his attention between not only Yuri and Beka, but also Isabella. Yuri still wants to anonymously send her incriminating pictures, but he's certain Beka would murder him—and if not actually that, Yuri's afraid of Beka's fists now. He hadn't really realized that Beka knew how to fight.

"Shit, I'm just prolonging the torture," Yuri mutters to himself, and taps on JJ's name, listening to the phone ring.

"Kitten! It must be an accident that you're calling on my—"

"You idiot, of course I know it's your birthday. And if I'd forgotten, Beka would have reminded me. Are you alone?"

"Uh, no, sorry. Izzy stopped by to wish me a happy birthday—of course—but I wish I could see you. Would you let me have your cock, kitten, if I were there?"

"I don't know," Yuri says. "Did you do something to earn it?"

There's a noise in the background, and then when JJ speaks again, his ebullient mood has dissipated. He sounds upset.

"Kitten, Izzy's still kind of angry about me taking off for Moscow. She's been telling me I'm not paying close enough attention in Bible study. I think she's suspicious."

"I don't know why that surprises you," Yuri says. "Why don't you just fucking _dump_ her already? You can't seriously mean to marry her?"

"Well, she's asking to postpone the date until I completely 'unburden my soul', whatever that means. It's not like I don't still go to confession! But of _course_ I'm going to marry her. I _love_ her, kitten."

JJ sounds devastated by the thought of leaving Isabella, which makes Yuri unreasonably angry.

"And what about us? What about Beka? You are a fucking slimy coward. Every time Beka thinks you're going to stick around, you fuck him over. So, yeah, it's your birthday? Happy fucking birthday, _Queen_ JJ."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" JJ bites out. "I never promised Beka the rest of my life. But I _did_ promise Izzy."

"But you were with Beka _first_ ," Yuri snaps. "You ditched him for some pussy! It's not that great, Jean-Jacques, I've tried it. Don't marry the bitch just so you can fuck a pussy."

"Yuri, you don't understand anything. I'm not marrying her to sleep with her—"

"Are you sure about that? You're becoming as much of a pussy as she is. Why can't you just admit you like cock? Will God strike you down with lightning? Tell me, Queen JJ, did you confess your homo tendencies to your priest?"

"Of course not, Yuri. My priest knows me. It weighs on my immortal soul that I have this… this… moral _deformity_ , that I can't shake off." JJ's quiet, except for the rasp of his labored breath, then he goes on, in a very small, not confident at all, voice. "I wish I didn't need the cock so much. God, Yuri. What do I do?"

"I have no fucking idea," Yuri hisses furiously. "I can't believe you'd insult me and Beka this way. Have a nice _coronation_ day, asshole. I'll talk to you again when I'm not so fucking pissed off about being dissed for my sexuality. There's nothing wrong with me—or Beka, for that matter—you shithead." Yuri hangs up with more force than necessary. Lilia's the one who showed him there is nothing wrong with him, and Yuri's not going to let JJ spoil that.

Poor Beka, though. How can they possibly make anything with JJ work, when he believes there's something fundamentally wrong with them?

"Are you gay, fierce little Ice Tiger of Russia?" Mila asks, reappearing unexpectedly.

Yuri jumps a foot in the air.

"Were you eavesdropping, you hag?" he yells. "No wonder that hockey player broke up with you. You have disgusting habits."

"You're one to talk," Mila says. "But you didn't answer my question. Imagine, if all this time I thought it was me, that I wasn't pretty enough for His Iciness, and it turns out that it's just you only like _one_ kind of pussy."

"What are you even going on about?" Yuri says darkly.

"Is that why JJ is your lock screen, Yura? Do you have a _crush_?"

"On that fucking freak? No!" Yuri twists away from her, knowing that one look at his face—red, flushed cheeks—will probably give him away.

"Aw, it's okay, he's pretty hot. Although he's a little old for you, and engaged. I don't think you have much chance there, to be honest. But… hmm. What about Otabek, babe?" Mila grabs him round the waist and squeezes him. Then stops. "Yuri, are you sporting some extra jewelry?"

"I'm not gay!" Yuri shrieks. It's one thing to tell a _few_ people, but Mila might tell everyone that comes to the rink. Fuck, he can see Georgi giving them an interested, curious look already. Crap. How loud did he yell that?

"Try that on someone gullible," Mila says with an airy laugh. "I overhead you when I walked back over here. Who were you cursing out?"

Yuri tries to break her hold, but she's got too good of a grip on him.

"Let me go, you ugly hag," he flares. Mila lifts him up in the air, swings them both around, and then lets go when she sets him down.

"Some girls might be rebuffed by that, Yuri, but you know me too well for that." She's got one eyebrow raised and a sardonic smile on her face. "I think you're cute."

"Gah, make me wanna puke," Yuri says, sticking his tongue out.

"You need a new routine," Mila says. "Pretending to barf is so last birthday."

"You need a new hobby," Yuri retorts. "Instead of listening in on my conversations. And picking on me."

"But, picking on you is the _whole point_ ," Mila says, acting all surprised. "Oh, look. Georgi's skating over this way. Maybe we should tell him that—"

"Do it and you die, hag," Yuri forces out. "Aren't you supposed to be practicing, anyway?"

"Ooh, the little kitten is so _frightening_. Aren't _you_?" Mila suddenly throws a phony smile over her shoulder. "Shit, Yakov is coming over and he looks all growly. See ya, Yura," Mila says, taking off her skate guards and gliding smoothly away on the ice.

Yuri buries his phone in his duffel and tosses it against the wall, even though Yakov will probably shout at him about it. Then he does the same as Mila, skating away from Yakov as if he hasn't seen him coming.

But practice doesn't go that well, Yuri flubbing a couple jumps he's already mastered, because he keeps thinking about JJ—and what Mila said.

What if she's right? What if Yuri has no shot with JJ, not really?

&~&

**Moscow, Russia, Nikolai Plisetsky's house, July 21**

"Grandpa, I'd like you to meet my boy-boyfriend." Yuri straightens his button down shirt, standing awkwardly next to Beka. "This is Otabek. Otabek Altin."

Yuri is shaking a little, feeling kind of cold all over; Beka touches the back of Yuri's hand and a little ribbon of warmth unspools inside him.

At least he has Beka for moral support; Beka, who doesn't seem nervous at all.

"The Hero of Kazakhstan? He's very handsome, though I am not sure I approve of him kidnapping my grandson on a motorcycle."

Nikolai Plisetsky smiles though, that special smile he saves for only Yuri. 

"It was just the one time," Yuri says quickly. "And he didn't _actually_ kidnap me. I chose to get on."

"I know this, Yurochka. Have you been away so long that you've forgotten I can tell a joke? Does this boy make you happy?"

"You do know I'm gay, Grandpa? I mean…"

"My poor little Yurochka. I just hoped you would find a nice boy. Tell me, is this boy the reason you came to Moscow, to see me?"

Yuri is desperate to know how long his grandpa has known this about him, but he doesn't want to ask. And Grandpa seems pretty unruffled by it, but Yuri knows his mother would have slapped him across the face.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa, I hope you don't mind. But I-I wanted you to meet him. And to… tell you in person."

"But I already know this, da?"

Beka has been very quiet, standing next to Yuri wearing his leather jacket and his sunglasses dangling from his fingers. Grandpa's gaze goes to Beka and snags there.

"So, Mr. Otabek Altin. You will be better than the best to my grandson, da? No more of this kidnapping business, though. The papers were on too much about it."

"Grandpa!" Yuri flashes a nervous smile. "The papers—"

"Yurochka. I don't mind this boyfriend thing, as long as you behave. But you must stay out of the papers. You would not be in a good place, to be gay in Russia."

"I promise, Mr. Plisetsky, I will take every care with your grandson. You have no need to worry on my account."

Beka's voice is soft, like usual, but extra respectful. He almost looks abashed; Yuri is still sweating bullets of nervousness. His grandpa seems to be taking it well—so well, Yuri wonders if he's dreaming.

Though, he's pretty sure that if this were a dream, he'd probably be naked or some shit.

"You make sure you don't crash that motorcycle with my Yurochka on the back. And that he wears a helmet."

"I'm right here, Grandpa. And I did wear a helmet! Didn't you see the pictures?"

"Yes, I did, which is why I worry. You must not make the papers so often for these other types of things. Do you understand me? You can have this boyfriend, but you must be careful!"

Yuri moans in embarrassment. He loves his grandpa, his agape, but now he's making Yuri feel like a child, instead of a well-fucked teenager. But oh God, if his grandpa only knew. Would he still be okay with Yuri's gayness if he understood the filthy things that it meant?

"Grandpa, _please_. Beka will think I'm pathetic."

"I'd never think you were pathetic, Yura. I respect you too much for that."

But what Beka's really saying, all over again, but in a different way, is _I love you_. And Yuri discovers he can't get enough of hearing it. But he can't believe he's getting this soft in front of anyone.

"Yurochka?" His grandpa asks. "Are you sad? Has this boy already broken your heart somehow?"

Oh, crap. Grandpa's face is now wrinkled up with suspicion. He's giving Beka a bit of an evil eye. But Beka doesn't seem concerned; he's reaching for Yuri's hand, tangling their fingers together.

For a minute, Yuri flashes back to when he and his mother both lived with Nikolai. They'd had a conversation he didn't understand at the time—but which now seems to make more sense.

_"He's a fucking freak," his mother says. "Perverted. My boyfriend said he makes eyes at him."_

_"He is just a child," Nikolai says reasonably. "That man you are seeing, he's a worthless nothing. A less than nothing. This child,_ your _child, he is an innocent. He is too young to understand what this means."_

_"He's disgusting. He'll grow up to be a dirty fag. I don't want that near me. Those faggots are all the same. They start in the cradle, like little bitches."_

_This is Nikolai's daughter, but he sides with Yura anyway, especially since his father's been gone as long as he's been alive._

_"Maybe it's best if you find someplace else to live," he says. "Let me raise my grandson. I don't want him to feel like there's something wrong with him. He's just fine the way he is."_

_Two weeks later, his mother had moved out. At first she sent letters and placed phone calls, but she never wanted to speak to Yuri. Then all communication stopped, and his grandpa never explained why._

"Grandpa, why did Mom leave?" Yuri asks, for a second forgetting that Beka is still there. Yuri doesn't know how much Beka knows about his family history, beyond the fact that Yuri's never mentioned anyone but his grandpa.

"You don't wanna know that, my Yura. It is bad memories. Better left to settle and be forgotten."

"I remember, though. Those names she called me. Am I so bad, Grandpa?"

"Of course not," he says, but even as he goes to reach for Yuri with those warm, safe arms, Beka's already embracing him, stroking his back. His mother would have probably thrown insults and crockery at him, repulsed by her abnormal son, but Grandpa just clears his throat. "It seems like I've already given my grandson away, to this Otabek. You better take care of him well."

Yuri starts to cry. He hides his face in Beka's leather jacket, but his grandpa knows him too well for that.

"Yurochka, it is okay. Forget her."

"He does take good care of me," Yuri says, the tears already drying. "He's so nice, Grandpa. I've never felt like this before."

If this outburst of goodwill surprises Beka, he doesn't show it, even though he has to know Yuri never lets his guard down like this.

"Well, good. Yes, very good. You are looking too thin, my Yurochka. I must fatten you up. Come on, you and Otabek will have lunch with me."

And that's how Yuri knows for certain that his grandpa accepts Beka: because he gives him the good food, and watches Beka watch Yuri eat it.

His grandpa always did understand him better than anyone.

&~&

**The streets of St. Petersburg, July 21, night, while Beka's approval rating begins to drop**

Yuri and Beka have just gotten off the train in St. Petersburg when trouble finds them—the kind that might land Yuri in the papers, and just after his grandpa warned him.

"Hey, pretty fag," some punk kid with tattoos down the sides of his neck yells. "Yeah, you, the blond fairy."

"You asshole—!" Yuri shouts back. "I ain't no fag, I'm a fig—"

Beka yanks him back, and even though he can't conceivably cover Yuri's mouth without drawing suspicion, it reminds him that he shouldn't advertise who he is; that would make things a lot worse. _And_ that being a figure skater doesn't necessarily negate the idea of him being gay. Not that any fucking punk needs to know that.

In half a second, though, there's another guy running up to the first. Judging from their tattoos, they must be friends. They both sneer at Yuri at once.

"Looks like a fag to me," says the second guy. "All dolled up pretty too."

This is a ridiculous comment. Yuri is wearing lightweight slacks and the button down shirt he had on at his grandpa's. It's not exactly wedding finery or particularly gay. But the side eye Beka gives him suggests that maybe the wispy blond hair half in his face; the pixie cut of his features; and his slender frame make him seem like a fragile butterfly. He hates that they're right that he's gay; he hates it more that he can't be who he is. Not here. It would be professional suicide, and worse, he might go to jail.

So he's angry at their words, especially when they both start making wanking hand motions at him, and pantomiming giving head. Yuri's head feels like it's been blasted off, and he lifts up his foot, ready to run over and plant it in their faces.

But he doesn't get the chance. Beka hauls him backward again, says in a low voice, "No, Yura," and then he's stepped in front of him.

Before Yuri can blink, Beka's assumed a fighting stance, and both dumbass punks rush him. Yuri feels a surge of pride when Beka slams his fists into their faces, one after the other.

The first guy is spitting blood and hurling insults that, frankly, seem more dangerous than his punches as Beka easily sidesteps, then sideswipes with an uppercut. The guy drops to his knees, clutching his eye. Beka whirls, just in time to deliver a roundhouse kick to the second fucker, who screams like a girl when Beka's foot connects with his lower leg. He collapses to the ringing sound of bone snapping.

"You fucking asshole!" shouts the first, trying to get to his feet. Beka jams his foot against his crotch.

"You wanna say that to me again?" he says in a low, incredibly dangerous tone. Shit, Yuri's getting hard from watching Beka: that unbelievable confidence, and sheer competence. He's not flustered at all, and the only injury on Beka is a bruise forming by one corner of his lips. One of the punks must have just grazed him with his fist.

"You the fag's fucktoy?" the guy asks, still all belligerance. Beka smiles, and Yuri quakes in his shoes—or he would, if that smile were directed at him. It's sexy, to Yuri; it must be terrifying to the punk. He falls backward, onto his back, putting both hands up. Yuri rarely sees a full, open smile on Beka's face, but this one is; full of danger and lethal promise, Beka does what no good sport ever does: he kicks the guy in the nuts, and his harsh scream is like music to Yuri's ears.

"Say you're sorry," Beka orders. He's barely out of breath. The guy raises his hands.

"Please," he whimpers, and Beka shrugs.

"Fine. Have a nice day, shithole." Beka turns, urging Yuri to walk in front of him, and follows him up at his back.

"I am a fag, though," Yuri says in a subdued voice. "But wow, Beka, you were amazing. I knew you could throw a punch, but I didn't know you could fight like that."

"There's a lot about me for you still to learn," Beka says quietly. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Yuri asks, before he jumps up and down, once. "You were fucking _incredible_ , I can't believe how hot that was."

"Careful, Yura," Beka warns him, reminding him that they are still on the streets. Yuri beckons Beka to behind some shrubbery out of view of the street and the lamps. Once they're cloaked by shadows, he tugs Beka close, not for any shenanigans, but just to whisper in his ear,

"I'm so fucking hard from watching you kick those punks' asses. You _destroyed_ them. Tell me you'll fuck me when we get back to Lilia's."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Beka hedges, pulling Yuri against him for a quick hug. "Lilia would probably rip my head off and feed it to you if we fucked in her house."

"Then take me somewhere," Yuri begs, even though he knows it's not feasible, that it's completely implausible. A motel might recognize Yuri, and it's not like two dudes going into the same room isn't hugely suspicious. At least in a situation like this one, where they'd probably be going to a rent-by-the-hour and not some swanky hotel previously booked by the ISU and therefore seemingly more legitimate. Yuri wonders briefly how many of the other male skaters might be hooking up with each other. Besides the piggy and Viktor, of course.

"You know we can't," Beka is saying, slipping out from behind the shrubbery again, gesturing to Yuri to follow him. Yuri sighs, giving Beka his best pout. Of course he knows.

"I need to be fu—"

"Shh!" Beka grabs him and hangs onto him for a minute while they're still shadowed by nighttime darkness. The punk that Beka kicked in the balls is limping by, wincing with every step. His friend is probably still writhing on the ground with his leg broken.

Yuri feels the first frisson of fear. He wasn't really scared or worried before, but:

"You think he'll report it?" Yuri whispers directly into Beka's ear. Beka shakes his head, the bristly short hairs of his undercut tickling Yuri's face. It feels like when they kiss before Beka's shaved.

"I don't know, but it was very dark. I don't think he can identify us." Beka sounds completely confident of this, so Yuri decides to trust that it's true.

"We need to get home," Yuri hisses. Beka nods this time.

"I'm gonna call a taxi," he says, but Yuri grabs the nape of his neck and squeezes, though not hard enough to hurt.

"No, I recognize this street. I know a shortcut." He's blushing in the dark, so he's pretty sure Beka can't see it. "I've only ever used it in daylight," he confides. "But with you with me, I think we'll be fine. How would you do a in a knife fight, though?" he asks, and Beka's smiles gleams just like the edge of a knife itself.

Wow.

They take the shortcut back to Lilia's, without further incident, and Yuri discovers that Lilia has put Beka in a room on the other side of her bedroom. He's not sure if it's because she objects to them fucking at all, or simply in her house; either way, she gives them a moment alone to say goodnight—deep, drugging, lingering kisses—and then packs Yuri off to bed.

He digs out his glass dildo and fucks himself on it, hard, until he comes with the image of Beka punching that punk's lights out on the backs of his eyelids.

&~&

**Lilia's spare bedroom, where Beka is sleeping, night, July 22**

"I didn't know you could be so dangerous," Yuri whispers into the dark. "It's so fucking sexy."

He has sneaked into the room with Beka anyway, and once he was there, Beka was too nice to boot him right back out again, so now he's lying stretched out next to his boyfriend in bed. It's a twin size bed, so it's a snug fit; Yuri's so slender though that that helps.

"Just don't tell your grandfather," Beka whispers back. "And don't fall asleep in here; I don't wanna die. Lilia's terrifying."

Yuri walks his fingers down Beka's bare chest, but Beka grasps his wrist and halts his progress. Yuri, refusing to be deterred, uses his other hand to grope Beka's bare ass beneath the sheet.

"I know you want me," Yuri says, trying to sound sure of himself. Not that he doesn't have plenty of self-confidence, but he doesn't _actually_ know what Beka's thinking. He's just excessively hopeful that Beka is at least reading the same book he is, even if they're not on the same page. Surely he can persuade him? Beka's hard on sure gives him hope, even though Beka's being reticent. 

"Stop it, Yura. This feels like messing around in my parents' bed." Beka sounds skeeved by this, but Yuri doesn't fully understand why. He supposes if it were his grandpa, but this is just Yakov and Lilia. They're _definitely_ not his parents. Or Beka's.

"I need you," Yuri tells Beka urgently. "I can't just watch you totally destroy a couple of punks without getting your cock in me after."

"Like you didn't already get yourself off," Beka says sardonically. Yuri massages Beka's tight, firm ass muscles. His unencumbered-by-clothing skin feels amazing to the touch.

"How could you know if I did or not?" he asks, coyly. Beka grabs Yuri's other hand and pulls them both up to his chest, holding Yuri captive.

"Because I know you," Beka says. "There's no way you didn't get off if you thought you were going to be denied." Beka kisses his hands. "But what are you doing in my bed? You have to know it's risky. Lilia's bedroom is on the other side of the adjoining wall!"

"So we'll be super quiet," Yuri says. He tries to get his octopus game working, but Beka's onto him. Somehow Beka manages to subdue his legs too, where Yuri's trying to get his knee up against Beka's dick.

"Seriously, Yura. There's a time and a place… and sometimes it's not the right time or place. And this is _not_ it."

Maybe if Yuri climbs on top of him…

"Do I need to worry about my virtue?" Beka asks, and Yuri sighs and flops back onto his side. He snuggles up to Beka though; maybe they can't have sex, but surely they can cuddle?

"I'm not a rapist," Yuri protests. "But I'm _horny_ , Beka."

"Yeah, I got that, thanks." Beka rolls onto his side to face Yuri. "You know what I want right now?" he asks, and Yuri has no idea, if it isn't sex. He can just make out the bruise at the corner of Beka's mouth; surprisingly, Lilia hadn't commented on it. Yuri managed to restrain himself during their goodnight kisses from prodding it with his tongue; after all, Beka's not JJ, and as far as Yuri knows, he's not into pain. So he says honestly,

"I have no idea."

"I wanna sleep with you," Beka says, caressing Yuri's hair. "And no, I don't mean that as a euphemism. I wish you could lie here beside me, until morning. I wish I could kiss you awake."

"Blargh," Yuri says, biting Beka's thumb where it rests on his lower lip. "You're acting like such a fucking girl."

"I _am_ the girl, essentially," Beka says, then before Yuri can screech about what he might mean, he goes on, "I like to dress up, remember? And of the three of us, I'm the only one in touch with his feelings."

"I figured things out," Yuri says petulantly.

"Yes, _eventually_ ," Beka says. "But JJ's hopeless." There's kind of a hopeless look on Beka's face, actually.

"He's just stupid," Yuri says uncertainly. Beka retrieves his thumb. He leans in, kissing Yuri quickly. When he draws back, it's hard to recall any other expression on his face besides impassivity.

"The point is, Yura, I want… _things_. Relationships. More than what JJ is capable of, anyway. I wish I could say I didn't have feelings for JJ anymore. I wish I could just _forget_ about him."

"I don't," Yuri murmurs, head starting to feel heavy on the pillow. "I like fucking him. And I don't want you to have to forget JJ; I know you still love him."

"I hope he doesn't break your heart like he did mine," Beka says. "I wouldn't wish anything bad to happen to you, no matter what you've done."

Yuri's pretty sure it's his fault that JJ broke up with Beka the second time. He feels a sudden flush of guilt when he remembers what he said to JJ on his birthday, and he wonders if Beka knows about it. Is this Beka's way of alluding to that? Or is he referring to Viktor? Shit, Yuri's done so many shady or downright bad things he doesn't even know which ones Beka might be thinking of anymore.

"I'll try to be better," Yuri tells Beka, eyes drifting closed. Beka's hands are in his hair, massaging his scalp.

"If you break my heart, I don't know what I'll do."

Yuri can still hear Beka speaking, soft words into a softer darkness, but it's too late, his earlier orgasm and all the adrenaline from the altercation has led to a sudden and utter crash.

&~&

**Lilia's spare bedroom, morning**

Yuri wakes up to a resounding bang. Sun is blinding him, and sometime during the night he and Beka kicked the covers off and wrapped around each other like entwined ribbons. This is… decidedly not the best scenario to be caught in.

Shit, Lilia!

Yuri flails and grabs for anything to throw over them, before he hears a gruff voice say,

"Holy Blessed Virgin Mother, I need something for my eyes!"

Oh, thank _fuck_ , it's only Yakov.

"What are you doing, old man?!" Yuri yells, forgetting that Lilia might still be abed on the other side of the wall. Beka blinks and sits up, untangling himself from Yuri.

"I thought Otabek might want coffee before he leaves," Yakov says, sputtering still. "You are unbelievable, Yurochka!"

"We were just sleeping?" Yuri says hopefully. It's the truth, but Yuri wouldn't believe him either. Yakov, once the sun glint fades from Yuri's vision, has his hand half covering his face.

"I'm not saying anything to Lilia, Yurochka, but you will get out of that bed this instant and go back to your own room! And then I'm forgetting this ever happened."

Yakov slams the door shut again and Yuri can hear him muttering,

"Fuck, what did I ever do to deserve this?"

"I told you not to fall asleep," Beka says ruefully.

"You didn't exactly wake me," Yuri replies. He sniffs at the air. "Crap, I stink. I'm getting a shower."

"You smell fine to me," Beka says, raising one eyebrow. Yuri flushes.

"If you like musk," he quips, before climbing out of bed, stepping into his underwear, and throwing a shirt over his head—one of Beka's, judging from the way it hangs on him. In fact, it might be the one Beka was wearing the night before, because there are a couple spots of blood on it.

"I'll miss your musk," Beka says, "when I go home, Yura. It's murder, being able to see you on the screen, but not touch or smell you. Or feel your breath in my hair. Your fingers on my skin. Or—"

"Oh, holy crap," Yuri says. "I'll be in the shower. I'll see you at breakfast."

===

Beka's send off is an awkward one at best, with everyone sitting at the kitchen table avoiding each other's eyes—except Lilia, who already left to teach some early students.

Yuri doesn't want Beka to go. He wishes it were feasible—or sensible—for Beka to stay. Every time he tries to catch Beka's eye, though, his boyfriend is looking the other way—but not at Yakov either. Instead, Beka is drinking his coffee with an almost manic determination, as if he can't bear to drink it, but hopes it will erase the awkwardness and embarrassment.

Yuri isn't permitted coffee, lest it stunt his growth, damn Lilia to the fiery depths.

Yakov's sipping his coffee and hiding behind a newspaper, actually.

But as Yuri recalls the prior night, he remembers Beka getting oddly sentimental, and especially when he was talking about JJ. Yuri doesn't think he's ever seen Beka seem so vulnerable; it's strange to him, that he could have been so lethal out on the streets, and so emotionally bare later that night, in bed with Yuri. It makes him wish even harder that Beka could stay.

Plus they never did get to fuck.

&~&

**National Library of Russia, St. Petersburg, August 28, 5 p.m.**

Yuri is struggling with the English in _Lolita_ , by Vladimir Nabokov, which his tutor not only insisted he read, but that he do it in the _original_ language.

_"It's written by a famous Russian author, of course, but you'll benefit from reading the English,_ his tutor Slava had told him.

So now Yuri is sitting in the largest library in St. Petersburg with a worn copy of the book and a dictionary, cursing under his breath at the difficult words he doesn't understand.

He's never been so grateful to JJ as he is in the next minute, when his phone vibrates.

Slamming the books closed, Yuri gathers them up into a pile, setting them on one of the carts to be reshelved, and snatches up his phone. He can't answer it in the main part of the library, so he takes it to one of the bathrooms and dials JJ back.

While he listens to it ring, he hopes Slava doesn't needle him about not finishing his essay yet.

"Yuri?" JJ asks as soon as he picks up. His breathing is raspy and uneven, and his voice sounds a little panicky.

"What do you want?" Yuri asks, projecting annoyance just for the sake of appearances. Like he's going to let JJ know he's glad to be interrupted.

"Would it absolutely kill you to not be nasty?" JJ asks, and he actually sounds angry. "Isabella went to the store today and she came home with one of those trashy newspapers. Hang on."

Yuri leans indolently against the wall and glares at his phone. After a second an email pops up. He opens it and scowls even more.

_Jean-Jacques Leroy seen with mystery_ man _! Is he having an AFFAIR? All the details inside! ___

__There is a grainy photo of two people, one facing the camera, obviously JJ, and the other person—definitely a boy, definitely with longish blond hair—standing very close to him, with one hand up like he's reaching for JJ. At the angle they're standing, it's impossible to tell if there's any distance between them. Yuri can see immediately why JJ's worked up: the blond's head is tilted at an angle, and JJ's recognizable blue eyes and undercut are clearly visible, but otherwise, they could be kissing._ _

__Yuri's pretty sure he'd actually been about to smack JJ for saying something stupid, but the picture is pretty incriminating._ _

__"What's the big deal?" he asks anyway. "It's not proof."_ _

__"Isabella's going to kill me," JJ says in a wretched tone. "She yelled at me for an hour. She doesn't know it's you, but I think she suspects. Do you remember she told the press there wouldn't be any scandals?"_ _

__"Yeah, so?" Yuri crosses his legs at the ankles and licks his thumb, idly gnawing at the nail._ _

__"Now there's a scandal," JJ says miserably. "I've embarrassed her. She told me she's 'humiliated'. I'm worried I'm going to lose her, Yuri."_ _

__"So _what_?" Yuri asks, cranky. He got sick of Isabella's whining a long time ago. He can actually _hear_ JJ grind his teeth._ _

__"I love her! Are you stupid?"_ _

__"Fuck you, King Asshole. I don't have to care about Isabella or what she wants or thinks." Yuri swings around to look in the bathroom mirror. His face is flushed, and he's hot and prickly all over. He yanks his hoodie down farther over his face._ _

__"Yuri Plisetsky, you are the reason this is happening," JJ snarls., and Yuri blinks at his reflection. Strange for _JJ_ of all people to lash out. Though he supposes he probably deserves it._ _

__" _You_ fucked _me_ ," Yuri points out. "I didn't ask you to. And it takes two people to make an incriminating photo, shithead, so you cannot pin this all on me. I have to go. I'm supposed to be writing an essay."_ _

__"Yuri, wait!" Suddenly JJ sounds desperate, and the angry edge has disappeared into the panic. "I have to talk to you…"_ _

__"What for? Why did you call if you were just going to bitch at me?"_ _

__"I didn't," JJ says. "But you're always such a nasty little brat. I got mad."_ _

__"Then go fucking call Beka or some shit, and don't fucking harass _me_ ," Yuri snaps. "I'm at the library. What's so goddamn important that you have to tell me right now?"_ _

__"I'll text it to you," JJ says. "My dad wrote it to me this afternoon."_ _

__"Couldn't you just have texted it in the first place?" Yuri asks, picking at his teeth. He should have brushed them after lunch, which he ate in front of Slava because Lilia's fucking thorough._ _

__"I wanted to hear your voice," JJ says somewhat shyly. Yuri wants to claw his face off. Fuck JJ and his fucking _feelings_ —_ _

__"I'm not gonna say _that_ again," Yuri spits. "I said it once. Use your fucking imagination if you wanna hear it again."_ _

__"I-I didn't—"_ _

__"But I bet you did. Text me, then. I need to _go_ , you douchenozzle."_ _

__"Yeah, I love you too, shit," JJ says. Then he sucks in a breath. "Izzy just walked by. I hope she didn't hear me!"_ _

__"I can't believe you'd even have this conversation when she's around," Yuri says, finger hovering over the button on his phone. " _Goodbye_ , King of Turds."_ _

__JJ might have been about to say something else, but Yuri disconnects the call._ _

__After a minute, he gets a text:__

> ___from: Alain Leroy—___
> 
> ___JJ, son, I can't pretend to understand you right now, or what you're doing with your life. But you're my son, and I will always love you. You are my baby boy. I won't always like what you do, but I don't have to. Part of being a good Catholic—and a good father—is accepting that my son will do things I don't like or approve of. But your mother and I will always support you.___
> 
> ___Just think long and hard about this, Jean. Are you willing to lose Izzy over this? If you are at all confused, you need to go to confession and then pray hard for guidance.___
> 
> ___"I don't have to love what you do, but I will always love you."___

 _  
_

Yuri cocks his head and reads the message again. JJ's father isn't angry? In Yuri's experience, religious people are always intolerant and ready to jump down your throat if you do something they don't like. 

How can JJ's dad be so… so… _reasonable_ about it? He texts back,

_if your dad's okay with it, what's the problem?_

It takes a long time for JJ to write back, but when he does, it's not really comforting.

_You know what the problem is. I don't want to lose Izzy, kitten. This might be a phase._

_being gay isn't a fucking phase!_ Yuri sends angrily, but this time, JJ doesn't reply.

"Gah!! Fucking _asshole_!" Yuri explodes, barely able to contain himself from screaming it in the library bathroom. Slava would have his head if he got thrown out. They might not let him come back.

Yuri gives studying up as a lost cause and packs his tiger print backpack, cramming his phone into his pocket.

But as he walks down the street, he wonders: why does his chest ache, and feel so _tight_ , when he thinks about the fact that JJ's father told him he would be behind him no matter what, and then JJ not only turned Yuri away, but implied Yuri was just a _phase_?

&~&

**Yuri's bedroom, August 28, 7 p.m.**

It's probably no surprise to anyone, least of all Beka, that Yuri calls him on Skype after dinner. Yuri hates that it's always three hours later for Beka, because he has a tendency to forget the time difference until after he's already placed the call.

Beka is shirtless and sweaty, like he might have been working out before Yuri called.

"You work out at ten o'clock at night?" Yuri asks, when Beka adjusts the camera on his phone.

"I just got done with some extra training," Beka says. "The Grand Prix Final circuit begins soon. I'm going to kick your ass this season, Yura."

"I don't think so, fucker," Yuri says, but the way a slow smile spreads across Beka's face causes Yuri to realize that when he says it to Beka, it's infused with fondness, like an endearment.

"So, what's up?" Beka asks, grabbing a towel from somewhere off screen and beginning to wipe away some of the sweat. "I need a shower soon."

"Why didn't you shower at the rink?" Yuri asks.

"I did," Beka says, "but I did some general exercises when I got home, and now I have to take another one."

"How many times do you shower in a day?" Yuri asks curiously, but Beka just shrugs.

"Why don't you just tell me why you called? You look agitated." Beka yawns, and his face scrunches up adorably. There's a hot, tight feeling in Yuri's chest, reminding him that he confessed to feelings for Beka too.

"Beka? Do you think I love JJ more than you?" Yuri asks, and he realizes that, where he's sitting on the edge of his bed, he's jiggling his legs back and forth. No wonder Beka said he looks agitated. Because he _is_ , dammit; fuck that stupid king of shitfaces JJ. If he weren't such a douche, maybe Yuri would—

"Jesus, Yura," Beka says. "You have no tact. Why would you ask me that?" Beka tosses the towel away. Even though he must know that Yuri is watching, he strips out of his underwear and flings them off camera too. Yuri's mouth goes a little bit dry; Beka's slightly aroused, cock a delicious display.

Yuri would be turned on too, probably, except he's still thinking about that exchange with JJ.

"Forget it," Yuri says carelessly. "I talked to JJ a couple hours ago. He and I were snapped together in a photo and it's been posted in the papers. Oh, shit, my grandpa's going to _kill_ me," Yuri cries.

Beka sits down on his desk chair, and he puts a pillow over his lap. Yuri is disappointed, but it's probably best without the distraction.

"So what happened?" Beka asks. He's stoic again, as if Yuri didn't ask him an insensitive question.

"Isabella saw it first," Yuri explains. He tells Beka all about his conversation with JJ. "And then he acted like it's just a phase, Beka!"

"He's still working things out," Beka replies evenly. Yuri hates that he's so goddamn calm!

"You're okay with the idea that JJ loves you, but he thinks it's just some sort of puppy crush or something?" Yuri says.

"Yura, JJ never said he loves me, and besides… you need to be more patient with him."

Yuri frowns.

"But it's so _hard_ , Beka. He acts like such an idiot."

"So do you," Beka says, "sometimes. That's what patience is _for_."

That stings. Yuri tries not to let Beka see his wince.

"I don't mean to," Yuri says sullenly, but Beka actually laughs a little at that.

"You're telling me you don't curse and tell people off on purpose? I doubt JJ means to either, Yura. The assignments are in. You'll be competing against JJ at Skate Canada, right? Don't spend the next few months angry at him, Yura."

Yuri chews his lips and forces his legs to be still.

"But he's so _infuriating_ ," Yuri says, but it's not as harsh as he intends it to be.

"But you're in love with him," Beka reminds him. Yuri glares.

"It's true, Yura. You told him yourself."

"Fat lot of good that did me," Yuri grumbles. "He's still off chasing that pussy. It's not like he decided he would be with me—with us."

"He's trying, Yura. And what his father said might help him. If he's got all this guilt, maybe he needs an outlet for it."

"Like a good pounding?" Yuri asks. "Maybe I can just fuck his ass through the floor at Skate Canada. Maybe he'll finally realize he wants cock more than pussy." Yuri flops backward and shimmies himself up his bed, till his head is just beneath his pillow.

"That's not quite what I meant," Beka says. "But perhaps he'll take his father's advice. I don't personally believe in Catholicism, but maybe confession and prayer will help JJ get his head on straight."

"That's the problem; he _isn't_ straight," Yuri says, glaring at the ceiling now as if it's personally offended him. He watches Beka closely, the way his muscles shift as he breathes and moves in his chair.

"You wanna have phone sex?" Yuri asks, glancing down at himself. He's not really turned on, but he's sixteen, and it would take about three seconds of stimulation to get at least partially hard, and then Beka moving that pillow off his lap would probably do the rest.

"That's not really a solution," Beka says carefully. But his cheeks flush, and Yuri grins triumphantly.

"I'll be nice to JJ," he wheedles, staring at Beka. He's actually hyper-focused on Beka's pillow, and whether he can see Beka's cock start to rise underneath it.

"You need to be nice to JJ anyway," Beka says. "I don't really have a lot of time, Yura. I still need to take a shower, remember?"

"Wish I was there," Yuri says wistfully. "I could shower with you. We could fuck under the spray, and the come would just wash down the drain."

"Someday, we will fuck in the shower," Beka says quietly. "But I don't know exactly when. I—"

Yuri reaches down and cups himself. He's horny, all right? And he's ashamed to admit that part of the reason is because of JJ. Because he and JJ got caught by the paparazzi, and while it freaked JJ the fuck out, there's part of Yuri that is getting off on the idea that maybe people _know_ about them.

Hell, that Isabella probably knows. Way back at Worlds, the way she behaved? She'd been cool towards JJ until Yuri had said something, and then all of a sudden she'd been so fucking possessive. If she doesn't know for sure, she suspects something. She'd been wary of Yuri, and now? With that photo floating around?

He's totally going to check Instagram when he's off the phone with Beka.

In the meantime, though, his cock is showing definite signs of life just from thinking about Isabella _knowing_. There's something stupid hot about the idea that her fucking Catholic self can't get any ass, and that her fiancé is probably fucking Yuri. A boy. Ha!

"You know, Beka, I wonder how it feels for Isabella, to know that her boyfriend isn't trying to get in her pants at all before marriage, but he's fucking boys on the side. That he's not worried about being pure as she is. Do you suppose she thinks it's her fault? That he doesn't _really_ want her?"

He directs the camera towards his groin, and his rapidly swelling dick. He can hear Beka swallow, but his response is disappointing.

"You should worry less about Isabella and more about yourself," Beka says. "It's not really very kind to gloat over the fact that JJ wants you."

"Ah-ha, but he _does_ want me!" Yuri says with glee, and gives himself a particularly firm stroke. Beka's breathing catches, and just when Yuri's thinking, _I've got him!_ his phone beeps an incoming call.

"Oh, fuck," Yuri swears violently. "My grandpa's calling. Thank fuck he always forgets to use Skype. I gotta go, I guess."

Beka's quiet, his face expressionless, even when he says, softly,

"I still love you, you know. Even when you're a dick."

Yuri feels warm all over. That's awfully nice to hear, despite the qualifier Beka added.

"I'll talk to you soon," he tells Beka, and there's the slightest hint of _something_ on his face before Yuri ends the call and switches over to his grandpa. His cock is losing interest because he's been interrupted, and he's grateful for that, even if his grandpa just cockblocked him.

"Hi, Grandpa!" he says happily, though, because he loves him, and he misses him a lot.

"Yurochka," Nikolai says sternly, "what did I say to you about getting in the papers?"

"I know, I'm sorry, Grandpa. But how did you know it was me? It's not obvious—"

"But I know what my Yurochka looks like, even from behind, you remember," he says. He doesn't sound angry, but he does seem miffed, a bit.

"Well, no one else knows," Yuri tries, rather desperately. "I am sorry, though."

"And your boyfriend," Grandpa says, "he was in the Russian papers. You think I do not recognize that leather jacket?"

"What do you mean?" Yuri asks, his stomach dropping out a little.

"Did your new boyfriend, this Otabek, go out and get into a fistfight?" Nikolai asks.

"Uhhh…" Yuri hedges, wondering if he can convince his grandpa that's not what happened.

"You know what, Yurochka, I guess I don't mind so much, if he protects you. I want you to be always safe. But if he hits you, ever, I want to know about it."

"He's not gonna hit me, Grandpa!" Yuri protests, and then deflates because he as much as admitted it was Beka pummeled some guys. "They called me a…" but he doesn't want to say that word to his grandpa. "They said nasty things about me," he finishes lamely.

"I do not approve of violence in general," Grandpa says. "And I do not think this boyfriend of yours should think with his fists. But I am glad you're okay."

"Beka's great," Yuri says earnestly. "He's seriously great, Grandpa."

"But also, who is this new boy in the photos? This Jean. Why did you kiss him on camera? Won't your Otabek be upset?"

Oh boy, is _that_ a loaded question, Yuri thinks. Thankfully he doesn't have to try to explain that to his grandpa.

"We're not kissing, Grandpa," he says. "It just looks that way from the angle. We were just talking. He's another rival skater, so it's okay. I was probably yelling at him, to be honest." Yuri rubs his eyes; he's getting really tired.

"No more newspapers," Nikolai scolds. "You stay out of the limelight unless it's about skating."

"I will," Yuri promises, though he has no idea if he can keep it. "I love you, Grandpa."

"You have a nice night, Yurochka. I love you too."

Yuri rolls onto his side and opens Instagram. He has several recommended posts from other skaters, most of them notifications about the tabloid photo. Yuri sighs and drops his phone onto the bed.

Crap. The paper didn't identify Yuri, but it seems like anyone who's ever known him recognized him.

Yuri lies there for awhile, then gets up to go brush his teeth. As he brushes, he thinks about how he said he'd be nice to JJ. Beka had said he should do it anyway.

"Fine," he says through a mouthful of toothpaste, "I'll be nice to JJ. At Skate Canada. Just to show Beka that I can."


	12. Chapter 12

**Skate Canada; Lethbridge, AB, CA; Room 1301, JJ's room, November 1**

"It's nice to see you, kitten. I'm surprised you came here all by yourself and I didn't have to beg you or drag you by the hair or something," JJ says, winking obnoxiously.

"Keep talking like that and I'm leaving," Yuri says, then bites his tongue. Right. He promised himself he'd be nice to JJ. For Beka's sake. And not at all because now that he's in JJ's room, he's reminded of how fucking hot the guy is in person. He smells delicious. He looks even better with his workout tee on, tight against his abs and pecs.

Yuri is wearing a loose tee for a very specific reason, one that he thinks is going to surprise JJ. His jeans, though, are as tight as he can stand them. He had to lie back on his bed to zip and button them.

"You look good," he tells JJ grudgingly. JJ smiles winningly.

"What's this? A compliment from the surly kitty? I'm amazed."

"Gah," Yuri says, "don't make me beat you up with your own dick." As soon as he says it, he kind of wonders if that's even possible, and whether it would just make JJ's dick harder anyway.

"Hey, kitten," JJ asks, "did you talk to Beks yesterday? It was his birthday."

"I _know_ that," Yuri mutters. "He's _my_ boyfriend. Like I'd forget his birthday."

"You know, if he'd been born here, his birthday would be on Halloween," JJ adds nonchalantly. "You think that's why he's so spooky?"

"He's not spooky!" Yuri retorts. "Did _you_ talk to Beka? Also, you're awfully mellow?" It's true; Yuri was expecting JJ to be mopey or otherwise subdued like he's been for months, but his larger-than-life personality is in full force—Yuri almost wishes he _were_ moping, because his personality can be hard to take.

Then again, Yuri supposes he wouldn't have fallen for him if he'd been a different person. He gives himself a shake, trying not to think about that; his feelings for JJ still confound him.

How _did_ he end up like this?

"I sent a text," JJ says. He changes the subject so fast Yuri almost gets whiplash.

"Isabella and I decided that we shouldn't spend so much time together." The first hint of something less ebullient leaks through. "It's not a separation or anything, and I still talk to her a lot, but she thought that maybe if we cooled off a little, it would help our relationship."

"Is that why your Instagram hasn't been full of mushy pictures of you and her lately?" Yuri walks around the room, poking at JJ's randomly strewn about belongings. It's the last day of Skate Canada, after the exhibition, and JJ has essentially moved into this room. He's probably going to forget something when he packs up to leave. Yuri finds something interesting, but he doesn't say anything to JJ about it. He'll say something later, if JJ doesn't bring it up first.

"Yeah." JJ is watching Yuri with a keen look in his eye. "We moved back the wedding date."

This makes Yuri stop snooping through JJ's things and stare at him.

"Seriously?" he asks, dumbfounded. He'd thought for sure that JJ was married—pardon the pun—to the idea of getting hitched to Isabella as soon as he could.

"Actually…" JJ shows signs of being uncomfortable, shifting on his feet. "We pushed it back indefinitely. We didn't set a new date yet. She says I'm on 'probation' after the tabloid scandal."

Yuri drops down onto the bed, amazed that he can even sit down in these jeans. He kinda hopes JJ will hurry up and get him out of them soon.

"It wasn't your fault," Yuri says, surprising himself once again by how mellow _he's_ being. "Although I still think you're better off without that bitch. JJ, she acts like she owns you. Boy, are you _whipped_." Yuri's waiting for an outburst of anger and strident declarations of love, but JJ just sighs.

"I know. I really love her, Yuri. But it's tiring, sometimes. I don't always know if I can be the person she so desperately wants me to be. Sometimes I question whether it's even right for her to put so much pressure on me. I wanna be a decent Catholic, and I wanna respect her and cherish her and all that, but…" JJ trails off suddenly.

"But what?" Yuri picks at a piece of lint stuck to the blanket on the bed.

"But I find myself wanting to be fucked. It's probably disrespectful to fuck around with you and Beks, but… I can't seem to help it."

Yuri makes a frustrated noise. How can JJ admit in one breath that he wants a good fucking, but still be so uptight about it in the next one?

"I don't know what to tell you," Yuri says, still amazed he hasn't lost his temper yet. Maybe it's because it's hard to breathe in his jeans, and he needs air to yell. Or maybe he's just better at this being nice to JJ thing than he thought.

JJ laughs self-deprecatingly.

"Trust me, I know. I wouldn't know what to say to me, either. Just. I'm really glad you're here." JJ's cheeks are ruddy, like he's had too much sun, but Yuri knows it's embarrassment. But what he doesn't know is whether JJ's embarrassed by his situation with Isabella or his admission that he's happy to see Yuri, even after everything that's happened.

"You gonna fuck me, Leroy?" Yuri asks, trying out a little wiggle of his hips. The jeans are now straining over his erection, because JJ's a dream, like the most luscious confection of a dessert in that damn tee, and Yuri can't help his fucking dick. It likes JJ's body too much. "I've thought about this for awhile," he adds. JJ's breathing caught when Yuri rolled his hips, his eyes suddenly fixed on Yuri's crotch.

"Is that what you want?" JJ asks breathlessly. "You want my cock, kitten?"

"Don't you want to be in my tight, pink hole?" Yuri asks coquettishly. No, let's be real here: he's being as slutty as he knows how to be. As slutty as he was in his Welcome to the Madness routine. Beka would recognize it—would he be at all jealous? "That's why you wanted to see me, isn't it?"

When the assignments had gone out, JJ had texted Beka about being anxious to see Yuri—and anxious _about_ seeing Yuri. Beka hadn't told Yuri exactly what the texts said, just that he should meet JJ in his room when the competition was over. So here he is, hoping to get through the night without being mean to JJ, so he can tell Beka that he _can_ be nice.

"It's up to you, kitten," JJ says, putting his palms out upward. His eyes are still glued to Yuri's stiff cock in his jeans. "You won the gold."

"You're fucking right I did," Yuri says, a wicked smile slashing across his face. "How's it feel, to be second place again, Leroy? You—"

"But you didn't fuck Beks the last time you saw him," JJ says, gaze flicking up to meet Yuri's. Now _he's_ smiling. "You saving yourself for me, kitty-cat?"

"Oh, fuck you," Yuri says, executing a perfect eye roll to express his disdain. "I didn't fuck Beka because he was in the room next to Lilia's."

"I heard about how Yakov caught you naked in bed with Beks," JJ says.

"I don't wanna talk about Yakov. Or think about him. Come here, Jean-Jacques. Make good on the fact that I showed up at your room."

The minute JJ gets close enough, Yuri surges up and grabs his shirt collar, twisting it even tighter against his body. JJ's breath whooshes out of him and then he's gasping as Yuri tugs him down. The kiss is hungry, frighteningly desperate, and punctuated by JJ's gasps for air. Yuri keeps a hold on his collar and JJ has to keep pulling back from Yuri's lips to try and get some air.

"P-please, kit—ah…" JJ squeezes through his constricted throat, and Yuri finally lets go. But JJ doesn't pull back; he dives in, covering Yuri's lips and sliding his tongue inside Yuri's mouth, making them both gasp for different reasons this time.

Yuri enjoys the kiss for a bit, then leans back. He's staring into JJ's eyes as they open slowly to regard him, fever bright, his forehead sweaty and his skin even more flushed. His lips are swollen and his neck is faintly redder than just a full-body blush would produce. Yuri smiles. He likes that on JJ. Maybe he'll choke him a little the next time he fucks him. JJ will probably like it—he got awfully into those breathless kisses.

"Jean-Jacques," he says, and JJ's pupils dilate even more. "You like it when I choke you?"

"Y-yeah," he replies, and a droplet of sweat tracks its way down the curve of his cheek. "What would Izzy think if—"

" _No_ ," Yuri says forcefully. "Don't think about that bitch right now. Right now you're fucking _mine_ , Jean-Jacques Leroy."

JJ shakes all over when Yuri says his name, his body rocking forward, towards Yuri.

"Let me fuck you, okay, I want to," JJ babbles. Yuri's eyes alight on the object he saw earlier: a sleek metallic buttplug that is much bigger than anything JJ's ever used before. He has an idea. Something that might distract JJ from Isabella at least for awhile. He's too cynical to hope for forever.

"I wanna try something new," Yuri says, finagling his phone out of his jeans and waking it up, flicking through the downloaded photos in his gallery. "Because that's for me, right?" He points to the buttplug and JJ nods, once. He's still embarrassed, which is actually, disgustingly, kind of cute.

"What is it?" JJ asks, craning his neck to see Yuri's phone. Yuri doesn't really want to admit to the fact that he saw this in porn a few weeks ago and immediately knew he had to try it. He'd originally considered asking Beka to do it first, but they kept getting interrupted and he wound up seeing JJ first. Then he thought about how big JJ's hands are, and it didn't seem so bad to try it with him first.

Yuri enlarges a photo and it turns the phone to face JJ, whose eyes go impossibly wide and his mouth parts a little on a feverish exhale.

"You're…" JJ swallows, rubs his lips with his tongue, obviously trying to produce the saliva necessary to speak. "Wow. Are you sure, kitten?"

"Oh, fuck yeah," Yuri says; this time _he_ winks at JJ. "And that buttplug will be the perfect warm-up. You wanted to fuck me with that, didn't you?"

"I want to fuck you with my cock," JJ says. He's perspiring a lot, as if he's as anxious as he is turned on. And he's _definitely_ turned on.

"We have time for that," Yuri says. "We have all night, after all."

Yuri doesn't have a roommate this time, and Viktor and the katsudon aren't here. Even if they were, it wouldn't matter; the pig told Yakov he wouldn't let Yuri near Viktor for the foreseeable future. Actually, he'd said, _I'm never letting that slutty teenager near my fiancé again,_ but it had been so impolite for someone of Japanese descent that Yuri's pretty sure he didn't mean it. Really pretty sure, anyway.

"I don't have to go back to my room till morning," Yuri says, lifting an eyebrow. JJ moans a little and reaches between them. It's much more of a relief than Yuri would want anyone to know when JJ undoes his button and slowly parts the teeth of the zipper, allowing Yuri to breathe easier and exposing the pink, hard line of his cock. He's not wearing any underwear. He'd considered wearing a thong, but honestly, he couldn't have zipped these pants over anything but his bare skin.

"God, kitten," JJ groans, "did you have to jump out of a second story window to get into these?"

Yuri waits, in an agony of anticipation, for JJ to get his hands on him. But JJ's suddenly teasing him, ducking his head down and just… _breathing_ on his dick. Yuri cries and his hips shift upward, chasing _any_ kind of sensation. JJ blows on him this time, then licks his fingertip and slowly traces it up Yuri's length, at least what little is exposed since JJ hasn't even pushed his jeans apart yet. He leaves a little wet trail, then blows on him again.

_Fuck!_ Yuri is going to _come_ if he doesn't stop that already. Even _without_ something in his ass, plugging his needy hole.

"JJ! S-stop. I don't wanna come yet."

"Are you that close, kitten? So close?" JJ's still got his mouth and his breath so close to Yuri's cock that the little puffs of air from his words make Yuri cry out and arch. It's too soon for him to come!

"Stop dicking around, Leroy," Yuri snarls. His patience is wearing thin, but at the same time, if JJ doesn't keep just… fucking him, in any way, Yuri might go mad.

"Ah, kitten, are you that desperate? For me?"

"Get me out of these fucking jeans," Yuri orders, reaching up for JJ's shirt again. "And take off my shirt."

JJ, the devious fucking asshole, goes for Yuri's shirt first, ripping it over his head; he'd looked ready to devour Yuri, but he stops and stares. Yuri thinks he might actually, literally, be drooling.

"Fuck, kitten. Oh, God." JJ seems largely incoherent now. Yuri knows what he's staring at: his nipples have some adornments now that they didn't have the last time JJ saw them.

He's got little kitties pierced through the soft flesh of his nipples now. JJ sucks in a breath and then his head is down, his mouth on Yuri.

His nipples are always hard now, and JJ's tongue licking at his left nipple makes him fucking _insane_. JJ tongues the kitty, rolling Yuri's nipple between his tongue and his lips. He sucks on it for a minute, until it swells in JJ's mouth, then he cages the little nub in his teeth and worries at it for a second.

Yuri's mewling now, stupid embarrassing cat noises, as his hips roll and he begs wordlessly for more. JJ doesn't disappoint; he bites his nipple gently, then laves it with his tongue to ease the sting. He does it again and again, nibbling the tender flesh until Yuri's about to fucking explode. Just when he thinks he can't handle a second longer, JJ lifts his head.

His lips are as red as cherries, but he just gives Yuri a quick, dirty smile and then his mouth is on Yuri's other nipple. Again, he messes with the piercing, sucking at the perky nub, biting it gently, sucking, biting… Yuri is fucking _dying_. His cock is leaking copiously and he needs to _come_.

"Jean-Jacques!" he cries, fisting JJ's hair and yanking it hard. "Fuck you, make me come! I'll just have to get it up again. I can't. I need—"

"I know what you need, baby," JJ says, and then he wraps his lips around Yuri's nipple again and hums. The vibration shoots straight like an arrow to his dick, and Yuri _screams_ , hips bucking off the bed as he fucking blows his load. It's premature, but he just can't help it. He's also just shocked himself: he didn't know he liked having his nipples played with that much.

JJ licks his nipple one last time and then straightens up.

"I don't know who likes your little surprise more," JJ comments, "me, because it's fucking hot, or you, who just came all over my shirt. Thanks a lot, kitten." He laughs a little and pulls his shirt away from his abs.

Yuri is still trying to catch his breath after coming, and his nipples are so over-sensitized that he might die if anything touches them right now.

"Shithead," he manages, flopping backwards.

"I have a surprise for you too," JJ says. He sounds shy. "Izzy will kill me once we get married, but I was angry and… I wanted to do something for you and Beks."

"You mean you're not completely pussy-whipped after all?" Yuri asks, exhausted. He might actually need a little nap before round two.

"Take a look, Yura," JJ says, and Yuri can barely raise his head. But the sight that greets him causes him to sit straight up, tiredness forgotten.

JJ's cock is flushed and hard, thick girth mouth-watering, but nothing about that is new, and nothing is quite as arousing as the fact that JJ's dick is _pierced_.

"Yep, you're right, Isabella's going to murder you," Yuri says. He sits forward so he can skim his finger over JJ's dick, pausing to shift the little barbell between his fingers. "When did you get this done?"

"Months ago," JJ admits sheepishly. "Haven't really seen you since June."

"That is… fucking hot as hell," Yuri marvels, continuing to play with it. JJ can't keep his hips still; he grabs Yuri's wrist and pulls his hand away.

"Not yet, kitty," he says. "I don't wanna come yet."

"I did," Yuri says, feeling cheated of the chance to play with JJ's cock.

"I'm not a teenager anymore," JJ says, alluding to the fact that he just had his twentieth birthday this year. "I don't know what my recovery time would be like."

"I hope it's better than just going off once," Yuri remarks, "because I _am_ gonna stay here all night." He searches the bed blindly for his phone. "I have more pictures."

"I don't need to see them," JJ says. "I know what fisting is."

"Oh, you _do_ ," Yuri drawls. "Look at you, the good Catholic boy. Wanna fuck me with your rosary beads around my neck?"

"Oh, I'm going to be praying the rosary plenty after this," JJ says, "and asking for all sorts of intercessions and benedictions. But I think it might be worth it."

On Yuri's phone screen, a willowy blond boy is lying with his ass in the air, another guy's entire fist disappearing into his ass. Yuri can't wait to see what that feels like. Maybe it will finally be enough.

"Do it, Jean-Jacques. Take off my jeans and show me what you know."

JJ doesn't need to be told again. He unwraps Yuri like a gift, his face reverent like he's just gotten everything he wanted for Christmas, and fuck, but it's nice to be out of those jeans.

"God, kitten," JJ says, short of breath again but for different reasons. "Where's the lube?"

"It's your hotel room," Yuri points out, "or did your dick drain so much blood from your brain that you don't remember where you put it?"

"Uhh," JJ says. "Hold that thought, okay?" He leaves Yuri on the bed, then retrieves the buttplug and after some poking through his bags, he finds a giant bottle of lube. Thankfully, because they're probably going to have to use a lot.

When he comes back, Yuri already has his legs spread, and with just a little spit on his fingers, he's up to two of them in his aching hole. JJ isn't impressed—they both know how much more Yuri can take—but he's clearly interested in the show. His cock is bobbing against his belly as he puts one knee on the bed and lifts Yuri's leg so that it's hooked over his shoulder.

Yuri crooks his fingers to the side, pulling himself open.

"I'm ready for you," Yuri says, peeking up through his lashes. But JJ's gaze is focused on Yuri's tight little hole. Yuri stretches himself even more open by sticking two fingers from his other hand into it too and spreading himself.

"Oh my God, kitten," JJ says like he might actually _be_ seeing God. "That's so hot. I can't even."

"Fill me up, JJ," Yuri says, just this side of begging. "C'mon." He can't bring himself to say "please," not yet.

"You didn't even use lube," JJ says in awe. Apparently _now_ he's impressed. He gently circles Yuri's wrists with his hands and pulls them away, kissing each wrist before raising them above Yuri's head. "My turn."

It makes Yuri happier than it should that some of JJ's confidence, even if it's false confidence, is back. He suppresses the urge to say something scathing just to keep up appearances.

JJ opens the bottle of lube and pours some into his hand, carefully coating the buttplug with it. He's using a lot—more than Yuri needs for something like that, if he's being honest with himself.

"Just do it, Jean-Jacques," Yuri insists, trying to be commanding, but somehow JJ ended up with all the power this time. JJ grins.

"Gonna do this with JJ Style!" he says, making "Js" with his hands. Yuri lies back.

"That's gross. I'm dying," he says. "This isn't the place for JJ style, moron."

JJ ignores him and finally— _finally_ —the buttplug is breaching Yuri's hole. It pops inside easily because Yuri's already prepared himself a little. JJ whistles.

"I don't even think you need this that much," JJ remarks. "But just to be on the safe side…"

JJ slides it the rest of the way in, then begins to rock it around in a circle, gently urging Yuri's muscles to loosen more. Yuri is used to this routine by now and just sighs as he relaxes his body.

"Fuck," JJ says, "you just swallow it up like it's nothing, kitten." He begins to move it in and out a little next, trying to convince Yuri's hole to stay open, at least a little. Yuri moves his hips in time with JJ's actions, feeling his hole flutter around the giant girth of the buttplug—it feels amazing, and it's not even as big as JJ's hands. JJ's hands are enormous, and Yuri literally cannot wait for JJ to put one of them inside.

His cock is already stiff against his belly again, just from a little stimulation in his ass. Yuri begins to grow impatient as JJ takes his sweet time, slipping the buttplug into place and holding it there, then working it out a bit.

"All right, enough," Yuri gasps. "I'm ready, fuck. Trust me on this."

"I don't wanna hurt you, kitten," JJ says, still fucking him open on the buttplug. Yuri reaches down and grips JJ's wrist.

"I mean it. I want the main event, JJ. Your fist—give it to me already."

"You don't need to be in such a hurry—"

"Yes, I do!" Yuri bears down on the buttplug, forcing it out of his body. JJ looks even more impressed.

"Okay," he says, shrugging. "You win. But you _will_ say something if it hurts," JJ adds.

_Not fucking likely_ , Yuri thinks. Unless it's excruciating, Yuri is going to keep his mouth shut. JJ's a pussy; he might not just slow down if Yuri says something. He might _stop_ , and then Yuri would have to kill him.

Yuri raises his ass in the air, but JJ just smacks him across one cheek—not hard, but definitely a swat like Yuri's misbehaving.

"Turn over." JJ tosses the buttplug aside. Then he leans over Yuri, and instead of waiting for Yuri to roll onto his stomach, JJ pulls him up with one arm around his slender torso. He hugs him for a second—almost as if he's still feeling a little sad, and not like he's about to put his entire huge fist in Yuri's ass—and turns Yuri over. "Lay on your arms and put your butt in the air," JJ tells him firmly.

Yuri can actually _hear_ JJ liberally lubing up his hand, he's using so much of the stuff.

Yuri does as he's told, his face pressed against his forearm on the bed. He lifts his ass up as high as he can and waits in breathless anticipation for the first penetration—and he doesn't have long to wait.

JJ doesn't mess around; he starts Yuri off with three fingers, which his ass sucks in easily. JJ curls them close together, and then he works his pinky inside too. There's a little bit of a burn now, as Yuri's body accustoms itself to the feel of so much of JJ's hand already. His hole flexes around JJ's fingers, and JJ pats him on the rump with his other hand.

"Relax, baby," he says soothingly. "Thumb next."

"I'm fine, idiot," Yuri says harshly, even though his breathing is uneven and there's just the slightest edge of pain. But it's really next to nothing on the pain scale, not something Yuri's going to complain about it. Actually, by the time JJ tightens his fingers close to each other again and inserts his thumb, Yuri's already breathed and relaxed enough to eradicate the pain altogether.

"You doing okay, kitten?" JJ asks, even as he drizzles more lube onto his hand and down Yuri's cleft. Yuri is shaking—it feels divine. He wonders if JJ would use the same word, and if it would irritate his religious sensibilities to do so.

"I'm okay," Yuri says through gritted teeth. It doesn't hurt anymore, not even when the widest part of JJ's hand, his knuckles, are on the verge of popping inside. And then, all of a sudden, JJ's hand is filling Yuri up impossibly wide and JJ's groaning. For his part, Yuri finally feels so _full_ —like maybe this is the ultimate fulfillment he's been searching for.

"You should see how you look, kitten. God, it's so sexy. You're so tiny, and… and my _whole fist_ , Jesus fuck. Plus you're so hot inside, and soft." JJ turns his fist a little inside of Yuri and Yuri moans like a porn star—not on purpose; it's actually kind of embarrassing—and pushes back onto JJ's fist. It causes his hole to glove the rest of JJ's hand—and part of his wrist, judging from the way it feels.

"Fuck me on it," Yuri pants, "harder, Jean-Jacques." He wiggles his ass in the air, and JJ doesn't need to be told twice. He sets up a fast, hard rhythm that feels like he's punching his fist in and out of Yuri, even though he never pulls his hand entirely free.

Yuri's cock is dripping a steady stream of precome onto the bed beneath him, twitching and pulsing with the feel of his blood filling it. JJ's hand moves even faster, and Yuri can feel his hole swelling, stretching wide over JJ's knuckles as he pulls back on a stroke before he returns his fist inside. He throbs _everywhere_.

"Oh, fuck, Yuri," JJ bites out, "I'm gonna… I could come just watching you take my whole hand. _Fuck_."

"Don't come yet," Yuri says. "Let me get off from your fist and then you can—"

" _Yes_ ," JJ says with conviction. "You absolutely have to see this, kitten, and so does Beks."

The faux-shutter sound of JJ's camera on his phone clicking is almost like a bullet into the sex-steamed air between them. Yuri cries out and slams his hips upward and back. JJ makes a surprised noise.

"Jesus fuck, you've taken me so far my forearm is halfway up your ass," he says wonderingly. The camera clicks again and Yuri keens in his throat, freeing a hand to dip below him onto his belly, snagging for a second on his belly button ring, then featherlight touches on his cock. That's all it takes: it happens so fast there isn't even time for JJ to try to stave off Yuri's orgasm; no, one second Yuri's finger is brushing the hyper-sensitive flesh of his cock, the next he's shooting over the sheets as his hole clenches down on JJ's wrist.

JJ works his fist out carefully, then moans himself at the state of Yuri's ass: even Yuri can feel the way his hole gapes open, loose and sloppy with lube, and he can hear JJ's fist on his pierced dick as it makes slick, obscene noises. Yuri isn't surprised when JJ finishes jerking off and comes against his hole, at least some of his spunk landing inside Yuri's stretched out muscles.

JJ's balances himself with one hand on Yuri's ass cheek, which almost makes Yuri topple down because he's wrung out from his second orgasm, even as he hears the click-click-click of JJ's camera, preserving Yuri's sloppy hole for posterity.

It's trying to close back up, but Yuri is sure the rim is puffy and abused, red and freshly fucked. He can't wait to get a look at it himself.

"I wanna see those," Yuri demands.

"You will, kitten. You will," JJ assures him. His phone rings suddenly, and JJ makes a strangled noise. "It's Izzy. She always calls after my exhibition when I win. I forgot."

"JJ—don't you _dare_ ," Yuri growls.

"But, Yuri—"

"I will bite your fucking cock piercing," Yuri threatens, but this doesn't do anything because of course JJ would probably like that.

"It'll just be a second." JJ rubs his fucked-out hole. "Think about it, kitten, I can talk to Izzy and stare at you. And right now, I wouldn't trade places for anything. I'd just be here, playing with your stretched out hole."

Yuri reluctantly admits to himself that the thought of Isabella being on the phone after they just did this is hot, because Yuri likes the idea of being with her man while she has no fucking clue. She's losing him, little by little, even if she doesn't know it yet, not really. JJ doesn't really know it, either, but if Yuri has his way, he's going to steal JJ away. Forever, and not just a custody agreement like nights and weekends.

"I'll make it up to you," JJ says, and answers the call. "Hi, angel! How are you?"

JJ wins even more bonus points by putting her on speakerphone—as gratitude, Yuri decides not to be an asshole and keeps silent so she won't know he's there, in JJ's hotel room, after they just fucked each other.

"I thought we discussed this," Isabella says. She sounds sour, like her mouth is pinched and she's tasting lemons and grapefruits. Yuri rolls his eyes; she's being such a bitch to JJ, and he's been trying so hard. Admittedly, Yuri wishes he'd _stop_ trying and just fucking leave her already, but he supposes JJ deserves some credit for at least making an _effort_.

"I'm sorry, bab— I mean, Izzy. I'm just so used to—"

"Well don't. I watched your programs. You fell on your signature jump both times you attempted it. And your exhibition was sloppy."

Jesus, what a _bitch_ , Yuri thinks, but he manages to hold the outburst inside.

"I still got silver," JJ says, but he sounds a little more depressed. "Listen, Izzy, I'm just heading to bed. I'll see you soon. Just text me our next date."

"Goodnight, JJ," Isabella says, and JJ taps the button on his phone.

"Fuck, JJ, she's practically friend-zoning you," Yuri starts to say, but then JJ's phone bounces on the bed near Yuri's face and there's a warm, wet intrusion into his ass; JJ's tonguing him, making obscene noises again and _eating his own come out of Yuri's gaping hole_.

Yuri's dick tries to be interested, but now he definitely needs some sleep before the next go-round.

When JJ's done lapping the come out of his abused hole, he assists Yuri in flipping back over onto his back, where Yuri sprawls boneless across the bed.

"Open up, kitten," JJ says, and when Yuri parts his lips, JJ passes him a wad of his come. Yuri is too tired to play the game of swapping it back and forth, so he just swallows it down in a couple gulps.

Then JJ lies down on the bed next to Yuri, snagging his phone off the mattress, and they spend their recovery time swiping through the unbelievably dirty—and unbearably arousing—pictures of JJ's fist in Yuri's ass, and then his come dripping out of his stretched, loose hole.

"Fuck me with your cock next," Yuri says, but JJ shakes his head.

"You should fuck me, I need a good dicking," JJ says.

Yuri smiles and ruffles the top of JJ's hair.

"You got it, asshole."

&~&

**Skate Canada; Lethbridge, AB, CA; Room 1301, JJ's room, November 2**

It's JJ's turn on his hands and knees; well, on his knees with his face smushed into the bed, as Yuri lubes up his cock with a minimal amount of the stuff and flicks his finger against JJ's tiny pucker.

JJ shakes at the slight stinging pain from Yuri's finger, and Yuri leans over him so JJ can see his face when he smiles.

"I think you liked that," Yuri says. "Don't worry, Jean-Jacques; I'll have you seeing God."

"Yuri!" JJ cries in protest, but his body trembles and tells a completely different story from the indignation he's trying to convey.

"You want my cock, JJ? Do you?" Yuri lays his hand out on JJ's ass cheek, flat and open and as hard as he can. JJ howls, but it's not from the pain.

Yuri grabs a corner of the blanket and stuffs it into JJ's mouth. Then he fastens his teeth against JJ's lower back, leaving prints of them on his tattoo. He flatters himself that his unique bite pattern is just as much of a tattoo of his being there as JJ's stupid tramp stamp is. That makes him smile even as he admonishes JJ:

"It's the middle of the night, fuckboy, you need to be _quiet_." He shifts on his knees and the metallic buttplug moves slightly inside him. Yuri catches his lower lip in his teeth and just _breathes_ , the sensation working him up to intense levels. He's gotta manage the pleasure or else he's gonna get off too fast.

He pinches the thick, juicy muscle of JJ's ass cheek even as he pushes his cock inside JJ's tight little hole. It's impossibly snug around him, squeezing his cock in sweltering silkiness. Yuri's been inside JJ before, but it's an experience he doesn't think he'll ever get used to. It's even stranger to be doing it without Beka's dick rubbing alongside his inside of JJ.

JJ's making muffled but encouraging noises, and Yuri really only used enough lube to make sure the friction didn't burn his cock; he doesn't want to actively make JJ bleed or anything, but he knows the edge of pain for JJ will get him off faster than anything else.

Still… it's a close fit, the way JJ's passage contracts around Yuri's dick, so he slides out a little, pouring some more lube onto his hands. He rubs over JJ's hole with his slick fingers, and then slowly, he urges his cock back inside.

"Almost there," he tells JJ, as his hole takes in inch after inch until Yuri's fully sheathed within.

This is all so slow and deliberate, and Yuri's patience is running out. He grits his teeth and begins to move, thrusting in and out for all he's worth, JJ crying out against the blanket in his mouth.

Yuri grabs JJ's belt from where it had fallen on the bed, and threads it underneath JJ, around his neck. He's _very_ careful, but he tugs on it, constricting JJ's windpipe enough to make JJ buck upwards, slipping on his knees a little.

Just as JJ begins to wheeze around the fabric in his mouth, Yuri loosens the belt again, giving him some air. JJ sucks it in through his nose greedily, and Yuri slams home into his ass just as he tightens the belt again.

A tremor wracks JJ's body and Yuri can see his dick leaking precome everywhere; he pauses for a second to give JJ a chance to come down a little and then fastens the belt so that he can manipulate it with one hand even as he wraps his fingers around JJ's cock.

Yuri sets a punishing pace in and out of JJ's hole, his heart loud and throbbing in his ears and dick as he fucks into JJ. His pulse is jumping under the skin and he can see JJ's body heaving against the restraint on his airway even as he fucks his hips downward into Yuri's hand, cock twitching. There's a throbbing against Yuri's hand, too, but he doesn't know if it's JJ's cock or his own heartbeat, and he doesn't care—he's too busy making sure that he doesn't get so lost in fucking JJ that he accidentally chokes him too hard; he doesn't want him to pass out.

The buttplug strokes over his prostate as he moves within JJ, and even as Yuri gives JJ some leeway to breathe, he knows he has to stop with the belt because he's getting so close.

He slams home, bottoms out, and holds himself there, body tense all over with the effort as he tugs firmly on JJ's cock, thumbing the piercing every chance he gets and smearing precome over JJ to make things wet and messy. He pulls on the belt, and JJ throws his head back; Yuri can feel his passage contract and release around him before clamping down on him.

"Fucking _come_ , Jean-Jacques!" Yuri commands, and JJ just convulses underneath him, dirtying his hands with jizz. Yuri drops the belt and pounds into him, reaching behind to fuck the buttplug in and out of his ass while he thrusts until he goes taut all over and floods JJ with his come.

He pulls out and falls forward, faceplanting into the bed next to JJ, whose face is red and sweaty. JJ's smiling though.

"I don't know, kitten," he says, having pulled the blanket from his mouth, "maybe you _did_ make me see God."

"That's at least one Hail Mary," Yuri mumbles, exhausted. He's come three times now, and even a sixteen-year-old has limits.

"Look at you, learning the lingo," JJ says. "Come shower with me. I need to."

Yuri turns his head, opens his eyes, and stares at him for a minute. He's got a cute little trail of hickeys down the side of his neck, and on his bicep, just under the maple leaf, is a swollen love bite. Yuri doesn't even remember marking him up, but JJ's got bites and bruises all over.

"You did just shower me with come," he repeats, out of order to make the joke. JJ huffs out a laugh.

"That was a joke worthy of King JJ," he says. "Wait, I can play my theme—"

"Don't you fucking dare," Yuri says, but he's really tired. There's a wide red mark around JJ's throat. "You're going to need to wear a turtleneck home," he says with a tiny burst of laughter. "And you can't get naked around Isabella for ages."

JJ's hands go to his throat, and he winces slightly.

"You didn't go easy on me, that's for sure," JJ says.

"You liked it," Yuri returns. He's falling towards sleep, but JJ seems like he wants to talk all night.

"I did like it. I loved it. Thank you, kitten."

Now, that's just weird.

"You don't thank somebody for that," says Yuri. "I got just as much out of fucking you as you got out of it, being fucked."

"But—"

"No, JJ. I don't want your gratitude. Save that for people like Isabella, who think you owe them something. Now, shut up. I'm going to take a little nap and then you can thank me by fucking my ass until I'm raw and I can't sit down."

"I can get behind that," JJ jokes.

"Idiot!"

&~&

**Canada, Room 1301, JJ's room, November 2, early morning**

Yuri yawns and lies in bed next to JJ, watching the way the sun rising makes the sky a paint palette of colors. JJ's still asleep, breathing deep and even, without the slightest hint of a snore—how could someone who is such a jerk when awake be so fucking _adorable_ while asleep?

The previous night's activities have left Yuri with a faint burn in his ass and a pleasant liquidity to his muscles. He's more relaxed than he ever really is, and he ascribes it to being fisted last evening, when he finally felt all the way satisfied.

JJ is on his side, facing away from Yuri, his long legs folded up to his chest, and one hand under his face.

He has to piss, so Yuri climbs out of the bed and goes into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. He takes care of his business and then brushes his teeth, because he wasn't kidding when he told JJ he wanted to be fucked within an inch of his life.

Yuri doesn't know when JJ fell asleep, but he knows that, for himself, he didn't intend to sleep quite this long. It's morning, for fuck's sake, even if it's very early. Yuri unplugs his phone from the charger and checks the time: 4:55 a.m.

"Shit," he says under his breath, because if they're going to have time, he's going to have to wake JJ. Checkout is 11 a.m, and Yuri's not entirely sure when JJ's flight leaves, but Yuri's is early afternoon, and because it's an international flight, he has to be to the airport a few hours in advance.

"Hey, fuckboy," Yuri says, stomping over to JJ's side of the bed. He looks like he might be drooling a little, which is actually cuter than it has any right to be. Unless he was drooling _on_ Yuri, in which case Yuri might have had to knock his teeth in.

JJ snorts in his sleep and turns his face deeper into the pillow. Yuri's going to have to do something drastic to wake him up, apparently.

Yuri grabs the buttplug from where it's fallen on the floor and the lube from where it's rolled under the desk. He tears the sheet back, exposing JJ's nakedness to the air; JJ makes a discontented noise and curls up even tighter. Well, that works for Yuri, anyway.

The comforter is on the floor because it's been liberally stained with jizz and lube, and Yuri's got come caked into his belly button piercing. He desperately needs a shower. He'd meant to, before he fell asleep, but tiredness the night before had been overwhelming.

Discarding the idea of taking a shower now—he's just gonna get messy again anyway—Yuri lubes up the buttplug and hops onto the bed again. JJ's a deep sleeper, it would seem, because he doesn't even stir when Yuri makes the mattress bounce with his movements. Yuri crawls close to JJ and, using his free hand, he parts JJ's ass cheeks and prods at his still slightly swollen hole. It's a deep red color, and Yuri smiles to himself. It's like a little signpost saying _Yuri was here_. He's even tempted to scratch his initials into the soft flesh of the back of JJ's thigh.

What would Isabella think, if she knew that her boyfriend liked it up the ass? It's possible that even if she did suspect he was sleeping around, and with a boy—and she certainly seemed (justifiably) suspicious of Yuri—that she might think JJ was the one doing the giving, not the taking.

Yuri has a terrible thought. His phone is still lying on the bed where he just left it, and JJ's phone is half-buried under JJ's pillow. Temporarily distracted, Yuri sets down the buttplug and snags JJ's phone.

He types Isabella's number into his own phone and sends her a text:

_your boyfriend is a catcher_

She doesn't have his number—at least, she shouldn't—and Yuri realizes slightly too late that JJ would probably recognize the number if Isabella says anything. But Isabella isn't going to know what that means, most likely, sheltered little Catholic girl that she is, and Yuri doubts she has the nerve to ask. Plus, he used baseball terminology on purpose. It's a double entendre that she's not likely to get.

Suitably undistracted, Yuri retrieves the buttplug again and, delving into JJ's ass, he presses the smaller size of the tip against JJ's hole.

The buttplug has just reached the part where it begins to widen the most when JJ wakes up, obviously startled, on a moan.

"Kitten?!" JJ pushes back onto the toy, then hisses in a breath as it gets to be too much for him—this is still substantially bigger than he's used to, after all. "What are you—ah!—doing?" His voice is raspy and he swallows with an audible click like he's really thirsty.

In a different situation, with more time, Yuri would give him something to drink, all right. But they really _don't_ have time for that now.

"Waking you up," Yuri replies matter-of-factly, as if it's normal to waken someone by shoving sex toys up their ass at the ass-crack—ha—of dawn.

"I have an alarm for that," JJ says sleepily, even though his hole is stretched deliciously around the width of the buttplug. Yuri's fairly certain that JJ's enjoying the ache and burn caused by the bigger toy. That combined with the fact that Yuri didn't use as much lube as he could have means JJ's writhing on it in a matter of minutes.

Yuri fucks him with it for a short while, but he doesn't want JJ to get off; no, that would defeat the purpose of waking him up, because how can he fuck Yuri with his dick if he comes?

"Good?" he asks JJ archly, grinning when JJ moans and rubs his ass against Yuri's wrist. When JJ manages to nod against the pillow, Yuri yanks the buttplug free and hurls it away. "You hard, Jean-Jacques? Ready to make good on your promise to fuck me?"

It occurs to Yuri as JJ's rolling over and sitting up, his dick indeed red and stiff, that maybe the reason he wants so much sex from JJ is because Beka's being so damn judicious with it. Beka's had opportunities to fuck him before, and he keeps acting like Yuri's a porcelain doll that will break if he starts fucking him too soon after they officially started dating.

The thought makes Yuri both perversely angry and even more determined to fuck JJ until they both start coming dry. Which Yuri might, considering he's already had three orgasms within the last several hours. Yuri's never actually come dry before, and now that he's had the thought, he's kind of curious what it might be like.

"Of course I want to fuck you," JJ says. "I'm even surprisingly able to get it up again." He laughs a little ruefully.

"Well, I'm ready, you're awake, come on."

"Come on what?" JJ cracks, and Yuri grabs a pillow and bops him in the face with it. When did it become like this? When did things get so damn easy and comfortable between them? And Yuri doesn't want to kill him anymore. He can't imagine that'll last, but he's actually fucking  <.i>laughing at JJ's stupid joke.

"Come inside me," Yuri says, fluttering his eyelashes. JJ laughs too.

"As tempting as that is, I'm going to brush my teeth first. I'd hate to offend you with my morning breath—you might chop my dick off or something."

"I wouldn't!" Yuri protests. "At least, not something _that_ mean…"

JJ jumps out of bed and Yuri sighs. The idiot always has a boundless amount of energy, even after just waking up. Yuri punches the pillow he's lying on to make it more comfortable and listens to the toilet flush, then the running water of the sink. It feels like an eternity but it's probably only a couple minutes before JJ returns to the room, his chin dripping and shadowed by stubble because JJ didn't take the time to shave.

It simultaneously sucks being sixteen years old—no facial hair yet, not really—and is awesome because, hello, multiple orgasms.

But he forgets all about that rather quickly when JJ stalks back over to the bed like a predator scenting particularly juicy prey. JJ's cock has gone down a bit, but Yuri has no doubt that he can easily engage JJ's interest enough to bring it back to full hardness.

As soon as JJ's on the bed, leaning over Yuri, Yuri lifts a hand and touches JJ's piercing, making him gasp. Yuri tugs it a little, causing JJ's hips to shift forward and his back to arch.

"You like that? You're pierced like a filthy whore, and you get off on pain like a fucking pervert." Yuri abuses JJ with his words even as he twists the piercing a little.

"Enough—!" JJ gasps, "stop, I'll come, and you won't get your fucking."

Yuri lets go, putting his hands above his head and smiling.

"Then what are you waiting for?" he asks slyly.

"I'm not waiting on anything," JJ says, and picks up the bottle of lube. There's about two seconds of elapsed time between him coating himself with the stuff and sliding home into Yuri on one stroke.

Yuri makes a strangled noise in his throat and cants his ass up, shifting the angle so that JJ fits in even deeper; JJ's cock is pretty huge and it's completely encased by Yuri's body now. He abandons his casual, devil-may-care pose and grabs JJ by the meat of his shoulders, clawing at him with his nails.

JJ withdraws a little, painfully slowly, making Yuri feel like he's got an itch he can't scratch. He settles for raking his nails down JJ's back as hard as he can, and JJ moans, rolls his hips, and spurts a little precome into Yuri as he shakes all over from the pain of Yuri's nails on fresh bruises and bitemarks.

" _Christ, kitten, you're going to kill me—_ " JJ explodes. He draws out even more and Yuri shakes too, desperate to be filled and crazy with averted lust as he feels JJ's cock leaving him empty. He's gonna go fucking crazy.

"Fuck me!" he yells, and crosses his legs behind JJ's back, digging his heels into JJ's torso until he's forced to completely fill Yuri again.

Yuri's disappointed it's not _more_ , but he supposes that's only to be expected after experiencing JJ's entire hand; it's still so good though, and it gets exponentially better when JJ drops his arms and his head and starts making out with Yuri, tongue plunging into his mouth even as his cock strokes Yuri from the inside out. Then JJ's fingers are rolling Yuri's nipples between his fingers, the piercings making his nipples actively _ache_ with delicious sensation.

JJ keeps kissing Yuri, but their mouths are starting to slide apart from each other from a combination of JJ's frenzied thrusting and their mingled spit. Yuri's feet slip a little on JJ's back because JJ is soaked in perspiration now.

After long moments of dragging Yuri through an almost unbearable flood of sensation, JJ lifts his head so that they can both breathe.

He keeps fingering Yuri's nipples even as he slams home harder and harder.

"You like getting nailed by the King?" JJ yells, pounding into him so hard and fast. It makes Yuri's whole body bounce on the bed, the headboard knocking loudly into the wall behind them.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck me, _Your Majesty_ ," Yuri shouts, but it's not the same vitriolic tone he would ordinarily use on JJ.

"Oh, I _am_ ," JJ shouts back, and Yuri's dimly conscious of the noise they must be making, but then it all goes away, and he's lost, utterly lost.

His cock spasms and jerks, but Yuri is suddenly almost crying, tears in his eyes, as his orgasm pummels him—but not a drop of ejaculate spills from his dick.

_Blyad!_ Fuckfuckfuckfuck, he's really _coming dry_ , and it feels like a brilliant star has burst inside him, dying and leaving the physical sensation equivalent of an afterimage on his body.

"Holy shit, kitty," JJ says, voice raised and filled with admiration, but Yuri can barely hear him because he's too busy drowning in the after-effects. It's never felt like that before. "Je t'aime!" he whispers, his fingers leaving Yuri's nipples.

By the time JJ roars with his own pleasure, flooding Yuri with come, Yuri's hole definitely does feel raw from all of the stimulation it's taken in the last several hours.

"JJ," Yuri says faintly, intending to ask what he just said in French, but JJ pulls out and Yuri's entire body collapses like souffle left too long in the oven. He can't even move. He can barely breathe.

JJ leans down, mouth hovering next to Yuri's ear, and murmurs,

"T’es beau comme un p’tit coeur, kitten."

Yuri's too exhausted to ask him to translate.

"I didn't tell you what happened after the tabloids," JJ says, idly playing with Yuri's hair. "And I'm really glad you came, considering what I said to you."

Yuri can't believe JJ's still able to form coherent sentences—or maybe he can, since JJ never shuts up.

"What?" Yuri says, voice thready because his heart is still pounding out of his chest. "And I came four times. Don't even look at my dick."

"About… the phase thing. I was wrong, Yuri. I don't wanna have these feelings, but I do, and I can't run away from them. I can push them down when I'm with Izzy, but I haven't been able to get rid of them completely. Yuri—"

"Shut up, JJ," Yuri says. He pats the side of JJ's face. "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

"But, kitten—"

"Nah, you're just going to change your mind in five minutes. Please don't puke mushy shit all over me when we both know you don't mean it."

"I made a promise," JJ says, mouth turning down. "I can't break it."

"Can't or won't?" Yuri asks, rolling away from JJ. He has a mind-blowing orgasm, and JJ has to fucking ruin it by talking about his _feelings_. "I have to pee," Yuri says, and tries to make his muscles work so that he can get up.

"Kitteeeeen," JJ draws out the word, and Yuri glances back at him; there's a subtle pink tint to his cheeks.

"I already told you I'm not a Russian hooker, you dick." Yuri doesn't want to know if JJ's thinking about what it looks like JJ's thinking about. "Don't say it."

"No, you're right. The 'Fairy of Russia,' was it?" JJ says with a perfectly elevated eyebrow.

"Not that kind of fairy!" Yuri says in a near-shout. He punches JJ in the arm and is gratified when JJ winces because Yuri managed to sideswipe a bruise with his fist.

"After the times we've spent together, kitten, I beg to differ." JJ is still grinning when Yuri slams the bathroom door.

"I'm taking a shower, and then I'm leaving!" he hollers. "I have to get back to my room."

Blyad! = Fuck! [Russian]  
Je t'aime = I love you [French]  
T’es beau comme un p’tit coeur = You're beautiful like a little heart [French]

&~&

**On the plane to St. Petersburg, November 2**

Despite the fact that he's surrounded by people on a crowded flight, Yuri texts Beka on the way home; he figures he can talk as long as it's not out loud, so he attaches picture after picture to texts and sends them.

It really doesn't take very long.

_Holy fuck, Yura. How did you fit that in that tiny body of yours?_

_pretty easily, actually. it fit like a glove. haha._

_I'm amazed._ Beka sends a picture back to Yuri after a few minutes. He's in a bathroom stall, probably at the rink, with his jeans open and his dick out, half-hard in the first photo.

Turns out it's a series, as Beka documents what Yuri's naughty pictures did to him as he sends naughty pictures in return. The next one, his dick is three-quarters of the way hard, and Beka's holding it up and to the side so Yuri can see the red lacy panties he's wearing. _Fuck_.

_don't you worry some1 will see your panties in the lockerroom?_ Yuri texts.

_Nah. I'm pretty careful, and it's such a thrill to wear them to the rink,_ Beka replies.

Then, his cock is at full-mast, stiff and there's a droplet of precome halfway down his shaft, a shining streak left in its wake. Yuri swallows and shifts in his seat. There's a heavyset woman sitting one seat away from him, so he hunches down in his seat and tries to shield his phone.

Unfortunately, his ass is definitely sore from all the pounding it got last night and this morning, so Yuri's uncomfortable in that respect too—he hopes Lilia doesn't notice anything amiss when he gets back to St. Petersburg.

Next, Beka's got his hand half covering his dick mid-stroke. The pictures continue as Beka masturbates for him in still life, culminating in a photo that perfectly captures the spray of come as it shoots upward from his slit.

Yuri can't believe Beka could take that photo _while coming_.

_do you have ice water in your veins or what???_ he types.

_Just naturally gifted._ Beka answers.

Yuri sinks down further and tries not to think about his very inconvenient boner that he now has. Somehow sending dirty pictures to Beka has backfired on him, though he's not sure what he really expected.

_you're fucking killin' me here._

_Just return favors, Yura. Should have anticipated that._

_are your panties soaked in come now?_

_They might be. ;)_

_i'd lick them. suck them into my mouth and just taste you. god beka._

_You have a nice flight home, Yura._

Beka is so evil! He sends another text, but Beka doesn't respond; just leaves him suffering with his Beka-boner and unable to do anything about it.

_you're an evil jerk!_ Yuri sends.

Sadly, Beka doesn't rise to the bait, and Yuri doesn't have anyone to suck him off this time when he gets home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Bordeaux, France, November 13, at a restaurant - dinnertime**

JJ, Yuri, and Beka are all seated in a fancy—and probably expensive—French restaurant, a feat accomplished because JJ speaks fluent French, a fact that he hasn't stopped crowing about since they all arrived in Bordeaux.

"I studied European French in school," JJ is saying, as he unfolds his cloth napkin and spreads it over his lap. "Of course I already spoke Québécois, but I wanted to learn classical French as well."

"Big deal," Yuri says. "Show off."

"I don't know," Beka says quietly, swirling his glass of water. "I think it's kind of neat."

Yuri stares at him. Beka is not looking back; no, he's watching JJ with a sort of achingly sad expression on his face. Yuri wants to hit JJ for causing his boyfriend to look at him like that. When was the last time Beka gazed at Yuri with such naked yearning?

"It's not 'neat,' Beka. It's obnoxious, just like everything else JJ does." Yuri points to JJ with his fork. "It's _useful_ , I suppose, since we're in France, but JJ doesn't have to shove it down our throats like he does everything else."

Before Beka can retaliate, their server comes to the table, holding a bottle of wine. JJ smiles at him and says, _in French_ , of course,

"You can set that there, _s'il vous plaît_."

" _Oui, monsieur._ " The man—who is young and decently handsome, to Yuri's dismay, since he's pretty sure JJ is flirting with him—gently places the bottle of wine on the table where JJ indicated.

"Bordeaux is the wine industry capital of the world," JJ announces. "That's why we have to drink some, of course; it's expected, and I, for one, don't want to miss out."

"Jesus, shut up, JJ. You sound like a fucking travel guide."

"Yura, try to moderate your language, would you please? We're at a really nice place. I don't wanna get tossed out of here," Beka says, putting his hand over Yuri's for a second.

"Ugh," Yuri says, "it's red wine. Besides, I don't even like wine. I like vodka."

"Well, no shit," JJ says, "you're Russian. But when in Rome…"

"We're not _in_ Rome," Yuri says, just to be contrary. JJ rolls his eyes.

"Clearly. Do you always have to be so unpleasant?"

"I don't know. Do _you_?" Yuri shoots back. He probably would've said something scathing except their server comes back. He asks what they would like to order, and JJ speaks in French too fast for Yuri to follow, gesturing to Yuri and Beka in turn.

"For the blond, the _croque madame_ , and for the brunet, the _entrecôte de boeuf_. For myself, the _entrecôte bordelaise_."

" _Oui, très bon_ ," the young man says, then gathers up their menus and strides purposefully away.

"Did you just _order_ for us?" Yuri asks, appalled and infuriated. "You didn't even ask me what I might want!"

"It's kind of romantic, if chauvinistic behavior," Beka says, resting his chin in his hand.

"It's disgusting," Yuri says. "You could've at least asked me."

" _Je t'aime_ ," JJ says, smiling.

"Fuck, JJ, watch it. We don't know if they'll kick our asses for being… you know. What we are. Since you just said that in French. Idiot."

"Yura, go easy on him. Please?"

Yuri throws his hands up.

"Fine. _Merde_!" he says, because he has a guidebook and he has a dictionary of French curses. The tips of JJ's ears turn pink and he frowns.

"Kitten, seriously, Beks is right. You can't just be impolite."

"I hate you both," Yuri says, sinking down in his seat and glaring.

"But, JJ, you know Izzy might check up on you. You can't just throw those words around, Yura's got a point." Beka sips his water, then reaches for the bottle of wine.

"Whose side are you on?" Yuri asks in annoyance. Beka finally looks at him.

"I'm not on a _side_." Beka pours a generous amount of the wine into his glass. "I'm just able to see all angles." He pours some of the wine into Yuri's glass too. Yuri wrinkles his nose, but maybe being tipsy isn't such a bad idea. Beka hands the bottle to JJ, who fills his own glass.

Out of the three of them, by the time their food arrives, Yuri's had the most to drink. He just keeps refilling his glass because he's used to drinking vodka like mother's milk, and it's going to take a lot to get him drunk.

And he wants to be drunk, dammit.

Their server sets down a dish in front of each of them, beginning with Yuri. His meal is a sandwich with an egg fried on top of it. He reaches for it, but JJ stops him with a hand across the table.

"No, you eat it with your knife and fork," he says.

"What did you order for me?" Yuri asks, glaring at his food like it's personally offended him.

"Fried ham and cheese sandwich," JJ says. Yuri scowls.

"I'm not a baby," he says. JJ laughs softly.

"Trust me, I know that. I remember Lethbridge vividly. No, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway. It's supposed to be amazing."

"What did you get me?" Beka asks, looking interestedly at his plate. JJ practically puffs out his chest.

"Beef marinated in Bordelaise sauce," JJ says. "Plus asparagus and a salad."

"I'd rather have a salad," Yuri says. JJ gives him a dark look.

"You need to eat more," is all he says, though. Yuri gestures to JJ's dish.

"And what'd you get?" he asks.

"Rib steak in gravy. It goes the best with red wine, which is why I chose that one." JJ cuts his meat and forks some of it up to his mouth. The noise he makes when it disappears inside is practically pornographic—and Yuri would know, since he's heard JJ make just about every kind of noise while they're fucking.

"Are we gonna fuck later?" Yuri asks. JJ swallows, sips his wine, and makes another distinctly discomfiting noise. Yuri's gonna get a boner if he keeps that up.

"I don't know," JJ says once he's finished chewing another bite. "I have to stop by Izzy's room before bed. She's expecting it. I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it to your room or not before it gets late."

"It's okay, Yura," Beka says, interceding. "You can come to my room and we'll play a game or something."

_But I don't wanna play a game,_ Yuri thinks mutinously. _I wanna fuck you! Why won't you just fuck me already?_

Yuri finishes another glass of wine and eats more of his sandwich.

"Make sure you eat it all, kitten—"

"Fuck you," Yuri says, "I won't if I'm not hungry."

"The French don't let you take your food home," JJ says. "They just think that you didn't want to eat it. It wasn't about you not eating, Yuri. It was just so you wouldn't be rude."

When Yuri turns to question Beka, he discovers that his boyfriend has already finished everything on his dishes. Yuri frowns and forces himself to eat a few more bites, then declares himself too full to continue. To be fair, it might be the wine sloshing around in his stomach—and his brain.

"I can't eat anymore, JJ. Can we please go now? The sooner you see that skank the sooner we can fuck." _I hope._

JJ flags down their server and says something in French, which turns out to be asking for the bill, because the man brings it to them promptly.

"I think it's awfully hot," Beka remarks in an undertone.

"What is?" Yuri asks, as JJ shoves his credit card into the little leather holder.

"JJ speaking French like a native," Beka responds. Yuri wants to yell something, to vehemently deny it, but unfortunately…

…Beka's right.

&~&

**Bordeaux, France, Trophée de France, November 13, Room 615 (Beka)**

"I don't see why JJ couldn't just ignore the bitch and come be with us," Yuri complains. "Why is JJ even still talking to her? What does he need _her_ for, that she still attends all of his competitions?" Yuri asks Beka when they enter his room. "She makes him feel bad about himself. Besides, he's got us."

Beka gives him an inscrutable look, and Yuri shrugs.

"It's the truth, and you know it. What did that hag, or his religion for that matter, ever get him?"

"Someday, your bad attitude is going to bite you in the ass," Beka says in a quiet voice. Yuri has to wonder if Beka's still pining after JJ.

"Would you rather be with JJ right now?" Yuri regrets asking as soon as he's said it, but Beka just gives him another unreadable look.

"Why would you think that?" Beka asks, and Yuri's distracted for a moment by the fact that Beka is pulling out the desk chair and then rummaging around in his suitcase for—

"Are those your ties?" Yuri asks, eyes widening. Beka nods, then gestures.

"Come here."

"Why?" Yuri asks suspiciously. Beka smiles, and Yuri begins to feel apprehensive. That is a coy, filled-with-secrets smile.

"Come here," Beka repeats, "and sit down." He points to the chair. Yuri huffs in annoyance and goes over, plops down in the chair.

"You do wish you were with JJ," Yuri says, prodding at the sore spot like he might poke one of JJ's bruises. "I saw the way you were looking at him at dinner."

"Yura." Beka winds one of his ties around Yuri's wrist and the chair, then knots it loosely, but when Yuri tugs on it, it holds fast. Beka's not kidding around, then. Once again, he wonders if Beka's mind has cracked, like an egg. "Are you doubting that I love you?"

The way Beka says it makes Yuri's neck prickle. Would Beka ever punch _him_?

"N-no, of course not…" Yuri says, staring at Beka's large, capable hands as he knots a tie around his other wrist.

"Then try to enjoy yourself," Beka says. He kisses Yuri quickly on the lips, then moves over to the bed and opens his laptop. "This is one of my personal mixes," he tells Yuri. The music that starts is low in volume, but has a thick, throbbing beat that echoes in his ears.

Beka flicks on the bathroom light, disappears inside, and leaves Yuri waiting in unbearable suspense.

When he comes back out, he leaves the door open so that the spread of warm light illuminates him, then turns off the overhead light.

"What are you doing, Beka?" Yuri asks in confusion. Beka gives him another secretive smile. He's wearing a red dress with elbow length sleeves that is slinky but stretched taut across his chest and hipbones. Yuri is dying a little inside. He hadn't expected, when Beka mentioned playing a game, that it might involve Beka in a dress that accentuates every gorgeous inch of him. Yuri's cock wakes up and is instantly raring to go.

Beka steps just out of Yuri's reach and begins to sway to the music, just a shade at first, barely moving.

But as the tempo of the music picks up, Beka starts to shimmy his hips, proving that he can dance after all, and not just on the ice.

Yuri feels like an idiot when Beka lifts the hem of the dress a little, then lets it drop; that's when Yuri realizes what Beka's doing: stripping. To music. Putting on a show—just for Yuri.

He wonders what JJ would think of _this_. Would he be jealous? Would he finally realize that what he wanted was right here in this room all along? Would he prattle some nonsense about his religion and how disgusting Beka was for wanting to wear women's clothes?

And then Beka slowly turns around, giving Yuri ample time to savor every angle until he's got his back to Yuri. Then he reaches up, undoes a little hook, and finds the zipper; he tugs it down excruciatingly slowly. About two inches down his back, he stops pulling the zipper, still swaying to the music.

"Beka—"

"Shh," Beka hushes him, and Yuri surprises himself by going silent. Beka palms his own ass, then bunches the dress upward, exposing the backs of his—shit!—his shaved legs. Yuri tries to lick his dry lips, but all of his saliva has dried up at the sight in front of him.

When Beka twists his hips a little, swinging his ass, he drops the dress back down again, but returns to the zipper. He pulls it down all the way this time, and underneath—fuck, Yuri's going to come. He's really probably going to come just from watching Beka's delicious show.

Because underneath the red dress is a laced up red lace… something. Yuri doesn't know exactly what it is, because he can only see a glimpse of it before Beka pushes the unzipped halves of the dress back together. He does the little hook at the neckline and Yuri can't see enough of the red lace lingerie between the drape of the silk.

"No, show me more!" Yuri begs, but Beka doesn't oblige; instead he dances back around to facing Yuri. His cock is a huge, perfect outline in the silk, but Beka doesn't touch himself. Yuri doesn't know why not—he must want to. If Yuri were in his position, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off.

As it is, he has to keep his hands to himself, because Beka has tied him to a fucking chair. It's so unfair! Yuri pulls against the restraints, but Beka doesn't even glance at his hands. He just keeps moving his body sinuously, hands running up and down his thighs, and then he frames his dick with them without touching.

"You like what you see?" Beka murmurs, barely able to be heard over the music. He reaches behind him and must unhook the dress again, because then he's sliding it torturously down over his biceps. The muscles flex and Yuri wants to bite him, just _there_.

The dress slides all the way down his left arm, and Beka turns his shoulder towards Yuri, then away, quickly—but wait.

"Did you—is that a tattoo?" Yuri says. Beka smiles at him, so many smiles in such a short amount of time, and gives him a better look. It must be fairly fresh, but it's healed already; a Chinese style dragon on the ball of his shoulder with the tail trailing down his arm. "God, Beka!"

"Don't come yet, Yura," Beka admonishes him. "I'm not done with you yet."

The dress is suddenly a pool of silk on the floor, and Yuri recognizes the lingerie Beka's wearing as a teddy, a one piece bit of lace and mesh that doesn't leave anything to the imagination yet is still, somehow, covering too much. Beka's cock plays peekaboo beneath the stretched lace, pushing it out. Yuri wants to lick, to taste, to mouth over Beka's dick through the teddy.

The music slows down, becoming something less of a sexy beat and more romantic, and then Beka's dropping to his knees in front of Yuri.

He wants to _touch_ , so badly. He wants to run his fingers through that dark hair, to tug Beka up so he can claim those lips in a kiss. But Beka's undoing his belt, unbuttoning, unzipping, exposing Yuri to the warm, humid air of the hotel room—when did they steam the place up? Yuri's so caught up in what's happening, his focus narrowed tightly down, that Beka's mouth on his dick actually surprises him— _like what did you expect, idiot?_ he asks himself. _You knew he was taking your dick out._

But Beka has more surprises in store. He licks up Yuri's shaft, using the flat of his tongue, and there's a hard, cool barbell pressing against Yuri's overheated flesh.

"You pierced your tongue?!" Yuri cries, back arching as Beka sucks him down. His eyes are dark chocolate in the lighting and beneath his lashes as he gazes up at Yuri, his lips pulled taut around Yuri's girth.

Yuri gasps and his hips buck, making the chair shudder and thump against the carpet. Beka swirls his tongue—making judicious use of the tongue piercing—around the crown of Yuri's cock even as he sucks.

It's a matter of pride to last as long as he can, but Beka has the advantage over him. He'd gotten Yuri so close with that striptease, and now he's blowing Yuri while wearing _red fucking lingerie_ and using a goddamn tongue ring and… _fuck_.

Yuri curses in Russian and forgets to warn Beka; but they've been lovers for awhile, and Beka—with one hand rolling his balls—must have sensed he was close. He pulls off, giving one last twirling lick with his tongue ring, and then leans back so that when Yuri comes—and he doesn't just come, he explodes—he spatters that red lingerie, leaving sticky streaks of white to ooze down the lace, soaking into it, against Beka's bare skin.

Which is how JJ finds them, when he lets himself into the room—presumably using Beka's spare keycard—and sniffles loudly enough for Yuri and Beka to both turn towards him.

"Well, shit, I'm glad _somebody's_ having a good time," JJ says snarkily, but the effect is ruined by the tear that runs down his cheek.

Beka gives Yuri a quick, unreadable glance before untying his wrists, then gets to his feet and stands there, suddenly awkward in his soiled red lace lingerie.

"JJ? You okay?" Beka asks, and reaches for a spare t-shirt he must have abandoned on the bed at some point. He pulls it over his head as if that will somehow make JJ forget that Beka's really rather garishly dressed and recently splooged all over.

"Fuck me," JJ says. But it's not angry or directed at Beka or Yuri. No, his eyes are red, puffy, and still dripping tears. "Izzy says she got a cryptic text from someone in Russia about me being a catcher. God, she's so angry with me. She said—" here JJ hiccups and covers his face "—she doesn't know if she wants to marry me anymore. Ever."

Yuri tries to disappear into the chair. Oh, this is definitely his fault, and while he wants JJ all to themselves, he knows it isn't right to break them up on purpose. Which, to be fair, he honestly wasn't trying to do, he just… is impulsive. And stupid.

JJ has to know it was him, but he's not yelling angrily at Yuri, and then Beka's throwing an arm around his shoulder and directing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You can tell us," Beka murmurs, and Yuri realizes the music has stopped. Jesus, Beka timed the music perfectly—did it stop on some rising crescendo just when Yuri came?

"I know Yuri did it," JJ says, but he just sounds miserable. "But it doesn't matter. She was getting more and more distant all the time. She didn't even want to come to France." JJ looks up, holds Beka's gaze. Yuri suddenly feels like he's not even in the room anymore.

"I'm going to thrash Yuri," Beka says, and Yuri now _wishes_ he was anywhere but here.

"How can I let her go?" JJ asks piteously. "I love her…. I _need_ her."

"You _don't_ need her!" Yuri yells. "She's just bringing you down, JJ. Are you fucking stupid?"

"Yura," Beka says in a voice that brooks no argument. It's dark and dangerous. "Shut the fuck up."

"You don't need to protect me from him," JJ says. "Yuri-chan, have I told you I love you yet?"

Yuri stares.

"Yes? Have you gone out of your mind?"

"I love Izzy with everything in me," JJ tells him softly, his gaze now trained on Yuri. His voice is steady. His eyes are piercing blue, and Yuri feels like knives are being driven into his belly. "I always will. I can't let her go."

"So, what? You're going to let us go? Me? Is that what you're saying, JJ, that you don't love me the way you love her?"

"Don't," Beka says, and this is obviously intended for JJ. "Don't you dare."

"I—"

"Jean-Jacques Leroy, if you fucking do to Yura what you did to me, I'll never speak to you again."

JJ looks confused.

"What did I do?"

Oh, good goddamn.

"You broke his heart, you melon-head," Yuri spits. He gets up from the chair and almost trips on his pantlegs because his pants are still undone. "Don't tell me you didn't even know? That he loves you?"

"Yura, please," Beka says, voice sounding strangled. _Shit_ , Yuri forgot once again that JJ didn't know Beka was in love with him all those years ago. Well, one foot in, might as well stuff the other in too.

"Tell him the truth," Yuri says to Beka. "I think it's time he knows."

Beka gets to his feet, no longer kneeling in front of JJ. He turns around, and when he speaks his voice is very low, as if he's choking on the words.

"Back in Colorado Springs. You dumped me for Izzy."

"That was just fucking around, though. Wasn't it?" JJ casts a glance at Yuri, still seemingly confused, as if Yuri has the answers. Which, technically he does, but he's still not going to spill any more of Beka's secrets.

"Not to me," Beka says. "You hurt me, JJ. First you exploited my crossdressing so you wouldn't be found out, and then you left me. You were my second boyfriend, and my first lover. Don't you think that counted for something?"

"I'm sorry," JJ says in a small voice. "I didn't know."

Beka whirls around.

"No, you didn't. But you still acted like an asshole. Whether I was in love with you or not, JJ, that's not how you treat someone. And you know what? I keep telling Yura not to interfere with your love life where Izzy is concerned, but she's not treating _you_ very well, either. Although Yura still ought to be punished."

JJ starts examining his nails. He wrings his hands, even.

"I really am sorry," he says. "Forgive me?"

Beka sighs.

"I gave up on you a long time ago, JJ, but Yuri loves you. You can't treat him the way you did me."

JJ flops backward, and Yuri stands up.

"I'm taking a shower," he says, and flees the room as if it's a crime scene. Maybe, in some ways, it is. The murder of JJ's relationship with Isabella, or maybe the one he had with Beka—or maybe even the one he has with Yuri.

&~&

**Bordeaux, France, Room 214 (JJ's room), November 15**

Beka's propped up by the rocking chair back, Yuri leaning against him, nestled onto his lap, and facing JJ. As close as it's possible to get, not to put too fine a point on it. Yuri arches slightly against Beka and his mouth opens a little. Beka shifts on the chair, and Yuri bites his lip. The chair rocks a little.

"Oh yeah, you look so hot like that, kitten," JJ practically moans, rubbing himself indecently as Beka again makes a minute position change with his hips, causing Yuri to gasp, his cock pressed to his belly. "Do him harder, Beks," JJ adds, but Beka doesn't move.

"You coming, Jean?" Beka asks, running the backs of his knuckles up and down Yuri's ribcage. Yuri closes his eyes, his head snugged up to Beka's shoulder and neck, breathing heavily.

"I will be soon, yes," JJ says. Yuri can hear him tap his phone and then set it down on the nightstand. Beka and Yuri are both completely nude, but JJ, despite the fact that it's his room, is still wearing his red Canada track jacket and pants.

"Beka…" Yuri breathes, reaching up to touch his hair. The long strands on the top of his head are soft, and Yuri wants to feel it against his face. "I'm ready."

"You hear that, JJ? He's ready for you." Beka captures Yuri's hand and kisses his fingers.

"Call me Jean again, please, Beks. Like in the old days."

Yuri imagines he can hear JJ adding, _like we're still friends_.

"If you're quite finished recording us, JJ, I'm kinda getting impatient here," Yuri says, trying to sound like he's not getting wrecked on Beka's dick right at the moment.

"Just one more second," JJ says, but Yuri can't bring himself to open his eyes to see what the hold up is.

The chair moves and jostles Beka where he's joined with Yuri, and Yuri's legs fall wider open, thighs pressing against the arms of the chair. He grinds down onto Beka's lap, savoring the feel of every inch of Beka spearing through him.

And yet, it's still not enough.

"You sure you're ready, kitten?" JJ asks, and Yuri nods, grunting a little as Beka rocks them both back and forth on the chair.

The next thing Yuri knows, there's a warm, wet tongue on his dick. JJ mouths at the head of his cock, then begins to lick at his slit, first a tiny circle around the opening, then a tighter rotation until the tip of his tongue is easing inside the opening. Yuri shivers, and then Beka fingers one of his nipples, messing around with the bar pierced through it.

"I love these," Beka breathes into his ear. "I can't believe you didn't show them to me sooner."

Yuri would reply, but he's distracted by the overstimulation of a cock thrusting ever so minutely inside him, JJ's tongue dipping into his slit, and Beka's fingers now plucking at both of his nipples. It's like being played like an instrument: every flick against the hardened little nubs sends lightning racing down his nerves, straight to his dick.

"He's a regular little rebel, for a kitten," JJ says, his tongue departing for a moment as he speaks. His hand covers Beka's and their fingers entwine around Yuri's nipple; he dies a little inside at that. So much pleasure in such a tight concentration.

"Shut up, Jean-Jacques," Yuri gasps, barely able to make his lips work to form words. "Keep doing what you were—ah—doing!"

JJ obliges him, working his tongue back inside, little by little. Just as Yuri starts to get used to the feeling, the way that JJ's tongue is stretching the tiny opening, his mouth is gone, leaving only brisk air against his heated flesh.

Yuri's eyes fly open when something slick and rigid slides a couple inches into his urethra. He's about to protest when the feeling of being stroked _inside_ his cock catches up to him and he moans when he opens his mouth instead.

"You like that, kitty cat? A new kitty toy for you," JJ says, and when he slides it back out, Yuri feels a keen ache of loss. "Shh," JJ says, in response to what must have been Yuri whining. "You'll have it back in just a second."

JJ drops a kiss on his cockhead and then straightens. Yuri watches through hooded eyes, his vision blurred by sweat and pleasure, as JJ lines himself up.

The addition of his cock alongside Beka's is a sharp shock, even though it's expected, but a good one. JJ hammers his hips forward and fills Yuri completely—the only other time it ever felt this good recently was when JJ's fist was all the way up there.

"Augh, I need… _more_ ," Yuri says, prodding at his incredibly stretched hole with his own fingers. He's just contemplating cramming one or two inside when JJ brings back the stainless steel rod and inserts it into his slit again.

Distracted, Yuri barely hears Beka when he says, in an awed voice,

"I can feel JJ's Prince Albert chafing against my cock, inside you. In a good way, I mean."

He doesn't _hear_ Beka's moan, but he _feels_ it, a vibration of sound running through his body. His hole throbs in time with his pulse as if Beka's got music with a kicking drumbeat playing. It's the background to the feeling of the sound slipping inside only a bit at first, but then, because Yuri's expecting it, it drops into place, and JJ handles his cock ever so gently as he presses on the rod. There's a catch, then it fits all the way inside, and Yuri's blood races. It's touching that spot of lightning and fire that he has only ever felt through fingers—or other things—in his ass.

"Aaaaahhhhh!" he screams, back bowing, leg muscles going taut. He can't breathe, and Beka's lips are on his ear, his fingernails scraping over a nipple, and as Beka rocks the chair, it causes the two cocks filling him up to shift and drag alongside his insides. True to Beka's astonishment, Yuri can feel the barbell as it depresses his inner walls.

JJ's mouth covers Yuri's, drowning out the scream, and he begins to caress Yuri's cock ever so lightly with the back of his hand, moving at a turtle's pace—but the sensation is so intense Yuri is squirming, hanging by a thread over a chasm of possible-pain. But it doesn't hurt, not at all, when JJ slips the rod up and down gently.

It nudges those nerves again, and Beka and JJ's cocks inside him are brushing against those nerves too, making Yuri unable to decide whether to bear down on the double penetration of his ass or lean into the stuffing of his cock. He doesn't mean to, but he bites JJ's lips from being overwhelmed by sensation. JJ's cock jerks within him at the pain, causing Beka to shudder behind him. Everything, from the feel of JJ's hand on his cock, to the piercing rubbing both him and Beka from inside, is incredibly heightened.

His eyes have fallen shut again, and his heart is screaming in his chest, his breaths shallow and sharp, and his cock is spasming and squeezing against the rod. Suddenly it's all too much, and Yuri rips his head away from JJ's mouth, afraid that he might seriously injure him as everything swarms over him and he's tilting at windmills.

JJ pulls the rod out slowly, and every inch feels like Yuri's being turned inside out by a pleasure so white hot it's excruciating. He comes and comes, shooting and shooting, and it lasts _forever_.

By the time he returns to his senses, as if his soul is resettling back in his body, JJ and Beka have both moaned and tensed, and his hole and insides are soaked in their jizz.

Beka's arms are tight around Yuri, and he feels like that's the only thing holding him together, inside his body.

"Holy Mother of God," Yuri says, voice a thin reed of sound. He flops, completely wiped out, against Beka. He thinks he dozes, because the next thing he's really aware of, he's sprawled on the bed and Beka and JJ are taking turns sponging him down with warm water and a washcloth.

"You doin' okay, kitten?" JJ asks, and Yuri has the distinct impression that JJ—and probably Beka, too—have been asking him this for a little while.

He manages a half-hearted nod.

"I think we killed him," Beka remarks, and Yuri summons the energy to flip him off.

"I'm sixteen, and an athlete," Yuri mumbles. "Give me a few minutes, and I can totally fuck you b—"

"Or just him," Beka says quickly. Yuri cracks an eye open.

"Oh my God, are you an ass virgin?" Yuri blurts, sudden energy flowing back into him. "Do we need to pop your cherry?"

"No," Beka says. "I'm sorry, Yura, but I don't bottom. For anyone."

"That's rich, coming from the guy who wears women's—"

"Watch your mouth," JJ says, and Yuri blinks up at him. JJ's standing up for Beka? After everything that's happened, it's stunning to think that JJ would stop _Yuri_ from making a snarky comment. "Beka doesn't like it. We tried once. Don't push him, kitten."

"Oh… okay," Yuri says. "I'm hungry."

"We'll order room service," JJ says, touching Yuri fleetingly on the ribs, just above his belly. He seems pleased with the idea that Yuri would willingly seek out food. Yuri isn't really all that worried about disillusioning him.

"No," Yuri says, rolling onto his side and eyeing both Beka and JJ. "I'm hungry for something else. Protein."

JJ and Beka exchange glances.

"Kitten, it's only been a little while. I don't know if—"

"You don't have to join us," Yuri says, glance flicking downward meaningfully. Beka's cock is showing the faintest stirrings of interest. "Pretty sure Beka can go again. We don't need you to—"

"Yura, don't be mean."

"I don't think he can help it," JJ says. "I'm starting to think his brain is wired that way."

"I'll bite you," Yuri says. JJ stretches and yawns. Then he unzips his Canada jacket and Yuri feels a soft blush suffuse his skin because he got jizz all over it. It's JJ's fault for wearing it during their _activities_ , but Yuri didn't realize he'd come so… much.

"If I knew you were coming, I would have baked a cake," JJ says, catching the direction of his look. "With cream frosting."

"Oh, that's gross," Yuri says, sticking his tongue out. "And the worst joke ever. What the hell, JJ?"

"Says the guy who's hungry for dick," JJ says. "But you can't have mine, because I _know_ you bite," he adds, fingering his lip, which is fat and bloody where Yuri sunk his teeth in when he was insensate of his surroundings.

"I'm always up for a blowjob," says Beka, climbing onto the bed beside Yuri. They both look over at JJ, who has set himself up on the couch in the room, his legs spread, his hand on his dick.

"That's your favorite place for your hand, isn't it, JJ?" Yuri asks, snidely, but JJ just grins.

"It's like a handle," he says. "I can't help but grab it."

"I call dibs on that ass," Yuri responds, climbing awkwardly over Beka to get to the floor. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, Jean-Jacques."

"Are you, kitten? I'm looking forward to it." JJ hitches one leg up so that the flat of his foot is balanced on the couch, exposing his tight little hole. Yuri hops onto the couch and presses his thumb against JJ's hole, feeling it flutter and then begin to throb.

"I bet you are," Yuri says. "Slutty bottom that you are."

"Takes one to know one," JJ replies instantly. "I think you've got me beat in the slutty department, anyway, kitten."

Yuri smacks his hole just hard enough to sting and make it glow red. A tremor runs through JJ, and he gulps, Adam's apple leaping in his throat as his cock drips down his length.

"Come here, Beka," Yuri says. "And could you bring the lube with you?"

&~&

**Bordeaux, France, Room 214 (JJ's room), November 15, thirteen minutes later**

Now that Beka's facing Yuri, legs bracketing JJ's chest, Yuri can both pound into JJ and mouth along Beka's dick at the same time. The problem is every time he bottoms out inside JJ, he forgets to suck Beka, and every so often he glances up at Beka's face.

JJ's leaning up on his elbows, his face buried in Beka's ass. Beka, despite his aversion to penetration, doesn't seem to mind rimming; his face is expressive and beautiful in a way that it hardly ever is when he's on his guard—which is most of the time.

Yuri slams into JJ, roughly abusing his hole with the punishing pace and depth he's got going as he licks Beka's cock, then he reaches down and squeezes the area around JJ's piercing a little _too_ tightly. He's drowning in the feel of soft, spongy flesh around his dick, unbelievably hot, and wet with lube and his precome, even as every successive thrust jostles the toy plugging his own hole.

"Yura—" Beka pants, his hands coming to rest on Yuri's shoulders. Yuri's gripping Beka's hip with one hand even as he strokes JJ with the other; he intends to leave bruises on them both.

"Faster, JJ," Yuri orders, and he pops off of Beka's dick in order to watch his face twist up so beautifully. "He's gonna come. Go on, Jean-Jacques, use your tongue… bring him off."

Yuri swallows down Beka's cock again, moving his hand from Beka's hip to his balls, rolling them in his palm until he feels them drawing up. He sucks all the harder even as he continues to ram that sweet ass of JJ's, relishing the feel of his hole so hot and responsive as it stretches around his cock.

"Oh," Beka says, and his hips judder, shoving his pelvis into Yuri's face. Yuri chokes on the head of his cock, quickly backing off as Beka spurts into his mouth.

Beka wraps his arms around Yuri, hanging on tight as he relaxes from the release of his orgasm, and JJ moans, muffled, against Beka's warm flesh as Yuri pistons his hips and buries himself as deep as he can get, losing control of his rhythm as he shudders through his own climax.

He's trying to keep his wits about him enough to finish whacking JJ off, but there's a sudden, quick knock on the door.

Everything stops, as the three of them freeze, Yuri sweating and breathing hard, Beka still clinging to him, with JJ's cock still plump and turgid in Yuri's fist.

"JJ?" comes a soft, distinctively feminine voice from outside the door. "Are you okay? I thought I heard you screaming."

"Izzy!" JJ says, panicky, trying to shove Beka off of him. His cock goes immediately soft. Beka and Yuri scatter, searching for their clothes, but everything's a mess and there's no way it wouldn't look suspicious anyway, if she were to see the three of them together in JJ's hotel room.

"I'm fine, baby!" JJ calls. "You must have heard someone or something else! Cat outside, maybe?"

"If you're sure…" Isabella says, sounding unconvinced. "Do you want to say goodnight? I was waiting up for you. I'm so proud of you for taking home the gold."

JJ's blue eyes are filled with hysteria and guilt as he swings his gaze around wildly.

"I, uh, I can't, babe! I'm just getting in the shower…"

"This late?"

"I'll come by your room in a little while, okay? Text me if you go to sleep."

"Okay, JJ. Don't take too long." Footsteps retreat, and JJ glares at Beka and Yuri, but it doesn't seem to be anger so much as terror.

"How are you going to get out of here?" JJ asks in a full-blown panic. "She could see you leave—"

"Relax, Jean," Beka says in a calm, soothing tone. "If you walk out first, ostensibly to go say goodnight to her, then we can leave as soon as you're certain she's in her room. Just text us."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. But you better get dressed." JJ is off the couch, and the room is suddenly a flurry of activity.

&~&

**Bordeaux, France, the airport, November 16**

"I can't believe you would embarrass me like this! Did you think I wouldn't find out? Were you just laughing at me the entire time?" Isabella's voice is loud and shrill, and Yuri and Beka are trying desperately to pretend they can't hear her.

"Stop staring, Yura," Beka hisses in his ear. But Yuri can't help it; Isabella has just produced a pair of siren-red boxer briefs and that sinking feeling in Yuri's stomach is decidedly not hunger.

"What do you call this, Jean-Jacques Leroy?" She shakes them out and turns them around. Sure enough, **YURI** is scrawled across the back in permanent marker.

"Oh, Yura, what did you do?" Beka says unhappily. He sounds _so_ disappointed. 

"It was months ago," Yuri says defensively. "I didn't think she'd find them… and I was angry."

"You're _always_ angry. You need to work on your anger management."

"JJ was being a jerk," Yuri says, to cover for the fact that he did it out of jealousy. "You think those are dirty?"

"Was he wearing them last night?" Beka asks.

"Not when he was with us, but, he did get dressed in a hurry to say goodnight to her. Jesus, that hag is such a hypocrite if she saw him in his underwear." Yuri presses his nose into Beka's leather jacket. 

"Izzy, please," JJ is saying. "Please calm down. Lower your voice?"

"Why? So the nice French people won't know how disgusting you are? So they won't realize that you're a… a _faggot_?"

She sounds way too pleased with herself for using that filthy word. Yuri takes a step forward and Beka immediately grabs him, hauls him back.

"I'm gonna punch her in the face," Yuri snarls under his breath. "She can't talk to JJ that way, and she's casting asparagus on us, too."

"I think you mean casting aspersions, Yura," Beka corrects.

"Whatever. I'm going to teach her a lesson—"

"No, you are not," Beka says sternly. "And you can't hit girls, Yura."

JJ, from where they're standing, looks small and deflated. His eyes are swollen. 

"Izzy, please don't use that word," JJ says. He's actually shaking visibly, even at their distance. "It's just a prank. You know how it is—"

"That's garbage, and we both know it. That bratty little boy has had _designs_ on you for a long time. Did you do it, JJ? Did you break your vows of chastity? Did you bang a kid? You sick… you're nasty, JJ."

"I didn't touch him," JJ protests. But Isabella isn't really listening. 

"Being a fag is anti-Christian, JJ. It goes against all the tenets. Didn't you read the Bible I gave you? Or did you just allow an unruly little boy to destroy it?" She's perspiring, her hair a ruffled mess, her mascara smeared. "You're going to Hell, JJ, but there is no way I'm going with you. It's over."

"But, Izzy—"

"I've suspected you weren't being straight with me for awhile, but this takes the cake. I think you wanted me to find out. Well, I'm humiliated, and I'm not going to be the shill anymore. Please, for the love of all that's holy, let me go. Don't make a scene."

"But _she's_ the one making a scene!" Yuri exclaims. Beka shushes him.

"You're breaking up with me, you're screaming at me in the middle of an airport, and you don't want me to be upset? We were supposed to get married, Izzy." JJ is making that face he makes when he's breaking inside and doesn't want anyone to know. Yuri wonders if anyone else would recognize it for what it is—because it looks like a smile that's been stretched and put on backwards.

"You've been sleeping with other people! With… with _men_! The Bible says no man shall lie with another man, JJ. How could you?"

Yuri thinks what she's saying is less _how could you break Catholic rules_ and more of _how could you do that to me?_

"You have no proof of that," JJ protests. "I've been a good boyfriend. For crying out loud, look at the ring I bought you before you throw all that at me! I want to marry you."

"No, he doesn't," Yuri mutters. "When will he figure out that he's gay, and doesn't really love her?"

"You can have it back," Isabella says coldly. "The ring doesn't mean anything anymore. And, JJ, you know perfectly well that our parents set us up in high school and pushed us to get married. How much did you really want to marry me?"

"I know, but I fell in love with you. It was so easy, Izzy—"

"You only love yourself," she hurls at him. "And I've had enough of it. I don't want to marry the king of apologies. I don't want to be a _queen_ , JJ, I want to be loved and respected for _who I am_."

"I respect you! I've never even kissed you on the mouth, Isabella Yang. I've never pressured you. Do you know how hard it is to be a twenty-year-old man who's waiting for marriage?"

"But you didn't, did you? You slept with someone else. Is that what your _respect_ for me is? Because that's a sick, messed up thing to do. I won't put out, so you'll just—"

"It wasn't like that." JJ's eyes are shining under the lights.

"She's making him cry, that fucking cunt. I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. Or a piece of my fist."

"Yura, stay here." Beka's voice is cold, but Yuri doesn't think the chill is directed at him.

"What was it like, then? You just tripped and fell on his… member?"

"Catholics are funny," Yuri says observationally. "She can't say _anything_ dirty, can she?"

"I told you I didn't do what you're accusing me of," JJ says.

"Lying is a sin, JJ," Isabella tells him, sneering. "So is extramarital sex. You _know_ all this."

"You know what, Izzy? Maybe you're right. Maybe that girl I was with when we met was really a boy dressed up like a girl."

"He just threw you under the bus," Yuri tells Beka, trying not to laugh. It's not funny, at least the situation isn't, but the red glow of Beka's face is pretty hilarious.

"You wouldn't have," Isabella gasps. "Besides, you said she didn't mean anything to you!"

"None of that matters. You can't leave me, Izzy." JJ sounds like a fucking pansy, begging her like he's going to die without her.

"You can't stop me," she says. "Don't try it, JJ. What do you think the media will say if 'King JJ' the Canadian rockstar figure skater suddenly has a restraining order against him?"

"God, what is _wrong_ with you?" JJ asks plaintively. He swipes a hand across his eyes. "You're not being a very nice person, Izzy. If you knew anything about what Catholicism is really like, you'd know that being intolerant and attacking people for differing views than your own isn't exactly being loving. And you wouldn't use homophobic slurs."

"Well, maybe you deserve it," she says huffily. "And don't take the Lord's name in vain, JJ. You really have fallen so far."

JJ looks like _he_ wants to hit her, too. Or maybe he'd settle for punching a wall; Yuri doubts JJ would ever consider hitting a girl.

"Maybe you're right," JJ says. "Maybe I thought I loved someone who doesn't exist."

It's Isabella's turn to look like she's been smacked across the face with a dead fish. Her hand goes up to cover her mouth, the diamond winking under the fluorescent lights.

"Here," she says, voice muffled, when she realizes she's still holding both the underwear and wearing the ring. She works the ring off her finger and balls it up inside the red undies and throws them at him.

JJ catches them reflexively, and then Isabella is storming out of the airport.

"Do you think she knows that she just walked out the regular doors and now she can't get on her flight?" Yuri asks Beka. He sniggers a little. "Stupid bitch. She deserves it."

"Sometimes you can be so vicious, Yura," Beka says, like he's not the one who broke somebody's leg once in a fight.

JJ crumples the underwear in his fist and stomps over to Yuri and Beka.

"I hope you're happy," he tells Yuri. "You just fucked up my life."

"You fucked up your own life by being a dirty cheater," Yuri replies nastily.

"Calm down," Beka says, trying to placate JJ. "She really wasn't who you thought she was, JJ."

"I'm going to ruin her life," JJ says quietly to them both. Another attempt to hide that he's been destroyed from the inside out? He grabs Beka and speaks, loudly, _in French._ Then he leans in and whispers to Yuri and Beka,

"I just said, this is the love of my life, and that paltry girl could never compare. She's the reason I had to step outside of my relationship and love someone else." Then he smacks one on Beka in the middle of the airport.

Oh, shit. _That's_ gonna be all over social media.

&~&

**Toronto, Canada, University of Toronto, November 27, JJ's dorm room**

"Wow, JJ, can't believe you let that gorgeous piece of pussy get away for a _dude_ ," some guy heckles as JJ walks by. Yuri grabs onto Beka's hand and holds it tightly. He's actually nervous about being surrounded by a bunch of crazy college kids, especially the guys, who all seem to have something to say about JJ's relationship choices. But Beka makes him feel safer, knowing that he could probably kick all of their asses—well, maybe not all at the same time.

JJ's popularity should have taken a hit from kissing a guy in front of a crowd of people, but instead he's suddenly a poster child for gay figure skaters. JJ posted to his own Instagram about the kiss, saying he was glad he didn't _have to hide anymore_ , and captioning it #jjstyleisgaystyle.

Even his parents haven't said a word about the fact that their son's life choices directly contradict with his religion.

This is the first time the three of them have seen each other since France, and Yuri doesn't know what to make of things. Is JJ really planning not to _hide_ anymore?

"Hey, JJ," Yuri says, bumping into his arm. "So, what? You're just gonna flaunt your gay boyfriend now?"

Beka tightens his grip on Yuri's hand.

"I can't believe I got dragged into this," Beka grumbles. "I don't wanna be 'the gay boyfriend of King JJ'."

"Relax, Beks! It's fine. No one is gonna care. Here, I mean." JJ grants a winning smile at some pretty girl walking by. She clutches her books to her chest and gives him a dirty look. As she passes, she says to her friend,

"That guy cheated on his girlfriend and totally showed off about it. Just because he's a figure skater, he thinks he's some kinda hot shot."

"Can't win 'em all," JJ remarks, but his smile is slipping. Yuri can tell just from that one happenstance that despite getting overall good press instead of negative press, not everyone agrees with how he handled it.

Yuri realizes he's clinging to Beka and lets go, stepping away from him a little. He's the Ice Tiger of Russia, not some baby who needs to hide behind Beka.

Even if he is only sixteen and surrounded by much older kids.

"Here we are," JJ says, whipping out an honest to god key and unlocking a door. "Welcome to the Château de Leroy."

"Oh, God, you're such a dork," Yuri says, burying his face in his hands.

"You love it, kitten," JJ says. "Be grateful that I don't have a roommate, so we don't have to employ the sock method when we fuck."

"I'd use the sock anyway," Beka suggests. "Just so no one knocks on the door looking for you or something."

The first thing Yuri does when he gets inside the room is test out the bed, bouncing on it experimentally.

"So this is college," he comments lazily. "How do you even have time to practice?"

"It's difficult, but I handle it," JJ says. "Like the bed?"

"You think people are gonna question why you brought not one but _two_ guys to your dorm room?" Yuri asks.

"I don't know," JJ says, lifting his arms above his head and stretching. He yawns, then sniffs his armpits. "I need a shower. Hey, Beks, wanna join me?"

"I don't think so, Jean," Beka replies quietly. "We don't wanna upset your classmates."

"This is a liberal college," JJ says, stripping out of his bright red shirt. It's one of his own JJ Style practice shirts, a fact that Yuri knows because of the one that JJ sent him all those months ago.

When JJ kicks out of his jeans, Yuri busts out laughing. JJ stands straight with his ass in front of Yuri, and flexes his glutes so that the name **YURI** scrawled onto the back of his underwear jiggles.

" _Such_ a fucking dork," Yuri says, but there's fondness in his voice he can't mask, no matter how gruff he tries to sound.

"Maybe Beka can just—"

"You really don't smell that bad, Jean." Beka breaks into Yuri's thought. "Stay with us."

"And keep getting naked," Yuri jumps in.

"Want to smell my kitten-approved underwear?" JJ asks, waggling his eyebrows. "Just for you…"

"Fuck no," Yuri says, wrinkling his nose. "It's bad enough I have to smell your ass."

"You only tried to rim me one time! And I had just taken a shower."

"Enough," Beka says, as if he's wrangling a couple of children. He checks to make sure the door is locked and then pulls his shirt over his head. His leather jacket he left over the back of JJ's desk chair. Then he gets up in JJ's personal space and takes JJ's hand, bringing it to his belt buckle.

Yuri considers yelling about being left out, but then he decides that watching Beka and JJ together is pretty fucking hot.

JJ unfastens Beka's belt, but then he knocks Beka's hands out of the way, flips them around, and backs him up against the door. Yuri can see Beka's arm lift up and wind around JJ's neck as JJ kisses him; the word **YURI** stares at him as they make out. It becomes slightly violent, JJ biting at Beka's neck until Beka leverages himself and turns them around. Beka's jeans are sagging in the back, indicating that JJ did unzip them.

All of a sudden JJ breaks out of Beka's embrace, scrubbing at his eyes.

"I don't know if I can do this," he says, tears obviously threatening. "It's so easy to put on a show but… but this is _real_ , and Izzy's really gone. She blocked me on social media—everywhere. How am I supposed to live without her?" He closes his eyes, but a tear streaks his face anyway.

Yuri frowns. It makes him irrationally angry to have JJ fucking _crying_.

"Jesus, JJ," he snaps, "why did you even invite us if you were just gonna blubber like a baby?"

"Yura," Beka says in a long-suffering tone. "Don't you have any sympathy? In your entire body, not one bone of compassion?"

"Fine," Yuri says, "he can fuck me. Happy?" Yuri unzips his hoodie and throws it on the floor. He shoves his jeans down his hips and dumps them on the floor too.

"We're still doing this?" JJ sniffles. "I don't know why you went along with it, Beks."

"If you haven't figured it out by now," Yuri starts to say, but Beka makes a throat-slashing motion. Apparently Beka's going to kill him if he says one more word.

"I went along with it because we're friends," Beka says. "Because I can be your boyfriend if you need that right now."

"It helps, a little," JJ says. "Having a supposedly happy relationship keeps the vultures from digging too deeply into the breakup."

"Forget her, JJ." Yuri leans back against the headboard and puts pillows under his ass to prop it up. "I'm ready. Isn't this what you wanted all along? Why'd you come to my hotel room, JJ, if you thought you were gonna marry that… girl?" He censors himself at the last moment, because it feels almost like speaking ill of the dead, to call her names in JJ's presence when JJ's fucking crying.

"Because, I…" but JJ frowns. He doesn't seem to have an answer to that. Yuri licks his fingers and reaches underneath himself, breaching his hole with a couple to start with. JJ's mouth falls slightly open and Yuri's lip curls in a smile as he stares meaningfully at JJ's crotch, where his dick is lengthening and hardening.

"Seems like someone's still interested," Yuri says. "You gonna get over here and give it to me hard, Jean-Jacques?"

"Go on, Jean," Beka urges, running a hand over his shoulder and down his arm. "Try to remember what you gained even though you lost Isabella."

"Why don't you let me show you why it isn't such a big loss," Yuri suggests. "For one thing, I put out."

"You are kind of a slut, kitten," JJ says, a little damply. "But you look damn good on my bed."

"You got lube, mister heterosexual?" Yuri asks, eyebrows going up. "I bet you do. Did you bring your toys to college with you?"

"If you mean my buttplug, of course I did." JJ's looking a little less wilted, even though his face is still wet.

"Yura's got a point," Beka says softly; Yuri can see him running his fingers up and down JJ's ass. "You like it in the ass an awful lot for a straight guy."

"I've never seen either of _you_ with a girlfriend," JJ replies, like that's an answer. He points to his chest and manages to light up at least half of his megawatt smile, like he's just won a debate or something.

"That's because we're gay?" Yuri says. Impatiently, he adds, "are you gonna fuck me, or what? I'm getting goose-pimply and bored." He watches JJ slip out of his underwear and snag a bottle off the desk. "You keep your lube next to your homework? Hell, JJ, if we look under your mattress, what kind of porn will we find?"

Yuri blinks and the next thing he knows, JJ's on top of him, kissing his neck and sucking bruises into the skin of his collarbones. It's like JJ learned how to teleport while Yuri's eyes were closed, even for the briefest of times. As JJ leaves love bites and hickeys all over him, he spreads the lube on his dick and Yuri can smell buttercream.

"You have lube scented like frosting?" Yuri asks incredulously, just before JJ moves down his body and fastens his lips around Yuri's nipple, which gives Yuri a quick look at where Beka is now on the bed behind JJ. That distracts him from the sweet scent.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be," Yuri says. When JJ's cock is the next thing to breach him, Yuri lifts his legs up to his chest, dislodging JJ from marking up his torso, and he moans at the feel of JJ's thick girth pushing into him.

There's a second where JJ's seated inside Yuri, and it's just the two of them, then JJ grunts and the bed creaks as JJ and Yuri slide upward a little. Yuri surmises that Beka just entered JJ.

To make things more comfortable for the three of them, Yuri ends up with his legs still folded in half, but spread to accommodate JJ in between them.

JJ is sandwiched so tightly against Yuri that he can't even slide his dick out; it turns out that Beka is _very_ strong, because he thrusts into JJ, and it rocks both JJ and Yuri, causing JJ's dick to sink even deeper and stroke over Yuri's prostate.

He finds himself wishing for either the sound or a toy, or something, to strain his endurance more than just the size of JJ's cock. Then he wonders what that says about him, that he's been spoiled by so much more that he can't just enjoy JJ's cock on its own.

Then Beka moves again, working the three of them up to a steady rhythm of counterbalances, and Yuri's prostate is brushed so frequently and so electrifyingly that he forgets about not having enough crammed into his hole and just closes his eyes, hands above his head and fisting JJ's sheets so tightly that he can feel them pull free of the mattress.

The room is filled with a consistent, _ah ah ah_ , and Yuri realizes it's his own voice filling the air with those filthy sounds.

Beka ratchets up the rhythm, and Yuri is soon bouncing on the bed underneath JJ, half-squashed from their combined weight, as JJ bites his shoulder repeatedly and licks over the stinging wounds. Yuri wants to remind JJ that he doesn't like pain as much as he does, but it's too late, JJ's dick jams up against his prostate one more time and it's too much, too sudden, and Yuri's coming, with a gravelly scream.

"Fuck the pain away, Beks," JJ cries, and Yuri wants to roll his eyes, but he can't because they're closed and he's exhausted from the power of his orgasm. Still, it's more like JJ should be asking for _more_ pain. Then he feels a drop of something warm hit his cheek, and winches them open just in time to see JJ furiously wipe away another tear.

Great, he's crying during sex?

"This isn't a pity fuck, Jean-Jacques," Yuri grumps. "I'm here because I want to be, though I can't believe I have to say that out loud. Unlike _some_ people," he adds, which causes JJ to make a sound that is definitely some sort of sob. Dammit. He pulls JJ in for a sloppy kiss, which gets interrupted when Beka hammers into JJ again.

"Oh, Christ, _Beks_ , fuck me till it _hurts_."

Yuri groans when JJ tilts his hips a little, his cock jerking within Yuri as he surrenders to the ultimate pleasure. His abs are too much against Yuri's dick and his cock is too much against those sensitive nerves inside now that Yuri's come.

"Beka…" Yuri pleads, and Beka always knows just what Yuri needs; he pulls JJ backward, and that causes JJ's dick to pop free. Yuri's left alone to stew in his juices as he watches, eyes sleepy, as Beka settles JJ on his lap and continues to fuck upward into him, over and over, at a fiercely punishing pace that must be rubbing JJ raw inside—not that he's complaining. Even though JJ came too, he's still half-hard and as he bounces on Beka's lap from the force of his thrusts, he doesn't seem to mind what must be exquisite pain from continued stimulation.

Finally, Beka, who apparently has the best stamina out of the three of them, yanks JJ down with a bruising grip on his hips and holds him there as his face contorts in climax.

Afterwards, nobody can move, so JJ fumbles the remote out from somewhere on his bed and switches the TV on, and they watch The Princess Bride like children even as come cools and dries flaky on their skin.

&~&

**Barcelona, Spain, Official Grand Prix Hotel, Room 505, December 15**

"I can't believe you won the fucking gold," Yuri says, words unevenly spoken as Beka jounces him on the bed with his dick.

"Put your mouth back to work," Beka says, and pushes Yuri's head down. He's on his hands and knees on the mattress, with JJ standing in front of him next to the bed, his cock bobbing against Yuri's lower lip.

Yuri sighs and opens his mouth, but just before JJ can slip it in, he says,

"I won silver, why am I in the middle?"

"Kitten, cover your teeth, _please_ , and don't try to talk if you're gonna blow me, okay?" JJ settles his cockhead on Yuri's bottom lip and slowly inches it inside, as if he's afraid of the outcome, like a man sticking his head into an alligator's mouth.

Like Yuri would bite him. Well, maybe he'd graze him with his teeth, but that's just because he knows JJ would like it. With that in mind, he very carefully closes his teeth over the ball of JJ's piercing. Then he licks the flesh beneath the piercing through his teeth.

JJ sucks in a breath and his hips snap forward, and from behind, Beka pounds his ass with staccato jabs that are too shallow to get Yuri even close, and Beka knows it. He's got his hands like claws on Yuri's hips, thumbs digging bruises into his ass cheeks as he holds Yuri in place to fuck, and at the same time to keep the movements short and not-quite-sweet.

Yuri says, muffled by JJ's dick,

"Fuck me _deeper_ , Beka, fuck!"

"Sweetheart, if I wanted your opinion, I'd take my dick out of your mouth," JJ quips, and Yuri lets him feel his teeth for a second. "God, okay, kitten, I'm sorry. Just don't talk with your mouth full!"

Opening his mouth a little wider, Yuri takes in as much of JJ's cock as he can, sucking hollowly and twisting his tongue around the flared head. He's surprised by how different it feels to have a circumcised cock in his mouth. The taste is slightly different, and when he inhales, the musky aroma off JJ's groin fills his nostrils. He licks along the vein, then bobs his head back and forth on JJ's length as Beka finally, _finally_ , pulls back on his hips and bottoms out so deep that Yuri sees stars.

JJ makes a pained noise, and Yuri realizes that he's definitely more than grazed JJ with his teeth; the problem is, JJ's a hypocrite who likes that so much jizz floods his mouth. Yuri gags on it a little; it's bitter and salty and worse than Beka's flavor, and it's also enough of a surprise that he ends up with come dribbling out of the corners of his mouth.

"Beka," he cries, pulling off JJ's dick. "A reacharound, please? I need fucking _more_."

But it's JJ who, once he slides halfway onto the bed, grips Yuri's dick and works his hand up and down, fingers lubed with what feels like JJ's come. It's sticky, and it mixes with Yuri's precome as Beka at last stops teasing him. Every plunge in now is deep, soul-shattering, and punctuated by a lush stroke over his prostate.

Yuri closes his eyes and relaxes as best he can into the sensations overwhelming him. He can feel release building in his balls, his cock; Beka is suddenly plastered to his back, his perspiration hot and damp on Yuri's back as he buries himself fully within Yuri and, his arms wrapped around Yuri's middle, Beka shakes and shudders and _comes_ , and that's all it takes for Yuri to reach the crest of his orgasm.

Beka manhandles Yuri so that he's lying curled on the bed, with Beka draped over his back, and then JJ's on his other side, plying him with drugging kisses as the TV drones on in Spanish in the background.

"Tomorrow…" Yuri mumbles, but JJ's breathing has gone quiet and rhythmic, Beka snoring lightly against the nape of his neck, and before he knows it, Yuri's drifting off to sleep too.

&~&

**Montréal, Canada, JJ's parents' finished basement, December 25, late night**

"This is my own Christmas tree," JJ brags. "My brothers and sisters aren't allowed down here. I also do my singing down here, because my parents say it's too noisy."

"I bet it is," Yuri says. "I wouldn't be able to stand your caterwauling."

"Just say 'Merry Christmas' like a normal person, Yura," says Beka. "Besides, have you actually _heard_ him sing?"

"I don't remember," Yuri says. JJ is wearing an ugly Christmas sweater with a snowman splashed across the front and a bright red reindeer nose on the butt. The nose lights up whenever it's pressed, and the only good thing about the hideous sweater is that Yuri has goosed JJ about a hundred times under the pathetic excuse of making the nose light up.

He's also not wearing any pants.

Beka is just wearing his leather jacket. And literally nothing else, because JJ insisted on snapping his picture. _It's super sexy,_ he'd said.

And Yuri is naked except for a pair of red and green Christmas tree socks.

"This is some time to find out about your fetish for fucking someone in socks," Yuri says dryly.

"It's Christmas! And I do like socks…" JJ plugs in the tree and the lights immediately glow, multicolored pinpricks of illumination.

"We don't really celebrate Christmas, remember?" Yuri prods JJ. "This is stupid."

JJ is suddenly wearing a dejected expression.

"I wanted to spend Christmas with someone, all right? I don't have Izzy anymore…"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Yuri blows the fringe of his blond hair out of his face. JJ is sitting at the edge of a bed that he hasn't explained its purpose. Yuri's kind of dying to know, but he also wants to get skin to skin with his boyfriends. Yuri steps in between his knees and cups his head, leaning into a kiss that's much more tender than he's expecting. After a bit, he pulls back.

"Are you feeling better? You're not still pining after Isabella, are you?" Yuri strokes his thumbs through the long strands of JJ's hair.

"It's gotten easier," JJ says, then drags Yuri back in for another kiss. He doesn't say anything more about Isabella when they part, just gestures for Beka to come over and join them.

"How are we doing this?" Beka asks, watching JJ with such an exposed and vulnerable expression on his face that it causes a sharp pang in Yuri's heart.

Yuri knows that Beka loves him, and he doesn't feel left out of their trio, but he realizes—maybe it's the spirit of Christmas coming over him—that he's going to have to do something to help Beka.

Imagine, Yuri fucking Plisetsky caring about someone's feelings.

"JJ in the middle," Yuri says, like he's the director of some cheesy porn, probably titled "Man-rammer" or something. "Beka, you lie down on the bed. JJ—"

But JJ's already stood up, turning around and tossing the bottle of lube to Yuri. It must have been in his bag or something, because Yuri doubts he keeps lube just lying around his parents' house. Even if they weren't devout Catholics, there's all of his younger brothers and sisters to consider.

"Does that door at the top of the stairs lock?" Yuri asks, because while he personally doesn't care if he gets caught fucking, he doesn't want it to destroy JJ's relationship with his family. Or scar any small children.

"Yes, and I threw the bolt already," JJ says. By this point Beka is lying on his back, his legs hanging over the side of the bed, his dick still mostly soft. Yuri bites his lip, then licks the reddened mark he's probably just made; Beka's eyes fasten on him, and then his cock starts to rise. JJ takes his cue from Yuri, stepping over to the bed, climbing up and straddling Beka's hips. He touches Beka's cock gently, stroking it with a couple fingers until the teasing brings Beka all the way to attention.

Yuri uncaps the bottle of lube and drizzles some of it down the cleft of JJ's ass, using his fingers to smear it against his hole. When JJ grabs his own ass cheeks and spreads them, Yuri can see that he's red, and looking slightly tender. He's been fucking himself on his toys, and none-too-gently, either.

He makes sure JJ's thoroughly lubed, then rubs it into his own cock, which is aching and hard, dying to be inside that tight, sweet hole.

He passes the lube to JJ, and assumes that he slicks up Beka, because he lifts his body, positioning Beka's cock at his entrance. Yuri would normally have insisted on being in first, but this is his Christmas present to Beka. He wonders, as he waits for JJ to take it all, whether JJ thinks about how blasphemous it must be to be fucking on what is allegedly Christ's birthday in his religion.

Once JJ's seated completely on Beka's cock, he leans forward, balancing on his hands as he presents his stuffed hole for Yuri's inspection—and for him to wreck him.

Yuri uses his fingers to stretch JJ open, then lines his dick up and begins to press inside. Not unlike Hasetsu, it's hot, and extra tight with Beka's dick throbbing fiercely against his.

Yuri's the shortest out of the three of them, but he's been training harder than likely anyone. He's younger than every other Senior division skater, so he's had to work and train with more dedication than they do to keep up with them. Which makes it easier for him to grab onto JJ's hipbones and pump forward, causing Beka and JJ to shift on the bed. Beka thrusts upward, and Yuri slams in, and pretty soon they've got a smooth motion going, a nice counterpoint between their dicks and JJ's swollen hole.

They do that for several minutes, just grunting and fucking, and then suddenly JJ's ducking his head down, laying soft kisses along Beka's jawline and down around his neck; he kisses him all over, then finally his lips meet Beka's and it starts slow, tentative, like Beka's unsure.

But Beka's been feeling unsure of JJ for awhile, and Yuri wants JJ to admit—to _show_ Beka—that he loves him. The kiss deepens, and then it's like they're devouring each other's mouths, their movements sloppy and their lips slippery as Yuri bangs JJ hard, and Beka's hips keep bucking up, and then JJ must be close, because he sits up, leans back a little, and Beka's arm begins to move in that universally known way, indicating that he's jacking JJ off while they both still fuck into him. JJ's hole is hotter than ever, conveying a sweet ache into Yuri's balls, and it pulses along with JJ's heartbeat when Yuri reaches up and presses his palm over JJ's heart.

When did he start to love this fucking idiot this goddamn much? He doesn't know, but his own heart almost _hurts_ as he gyrates his hips, changing the angle and style of penetration. His cock drags deliciously along the length of Beka's as they move, and then suddenly JJ's biting into his fist, muffling the destroyed noises he's making as his hole flutters and his passage contracts and clenches around them.

"Oh, oh, fuck, _Jean-Jacques_ ," Yuri gasps, pounding him one more time and coming in response to the clutch of JJ's muscles. He can feel Beka's cock spasm against his, and he knows their come is mixing inside JJ even as JJ slumps forward.

"Christ on a popsicle," JJ mumbles, and then he's kissing Beka lazily.

Beka's quietly kissing him back, and when Yuri pulls out, his arousal receding into satiation, Beka's stays lodged within JJ for long moments as they just kiss and kiss, making love to each other's mouths.

When they come up for air, Yuri realizes that it's gone dark in the basement, except for the lights of the Christmas tree.

"Did someone turn out the lights?" he asks, and JJ lifts his head, appearing exhausted but… he's _smiling_. And it's that smile of his that he never wears out on the ice, the genuine one that he used to shower Izzy with.

Yuri doesn't know if he's ever seen JJ smile like that at _them_.

"Mom must think we fell asleep," he explains softly. "There's a switch down here, too, but we don't really need it." And then, in the glow of the Christmas tree lights, JJ turns his face to Yuri. There's a naked expression of yearning on it, and Yuri can't resist pressing on the reindeer's nose. Then he smiles too, which makes him feel like as much of a fucking dork as JJ.

"Yes, Jean-Jacques, I love you, you idiot." He smacks his ass, and the nose lights up all over again.

This time, Yuri's not going to let Beka put him off.

"Do you remember Colorado Springs?" he asks JJ, and even though Beka turns the full force of his best glare on him, Yuri persists. "Did you _like_ Beka? Because you really stomped all over his feelings."

JJ peers down at Beka.

"Is that true, Beks?" He caresses the side of his face, and if that isn't an expression of abject loving, Yuri doesn't know what is. The only question is whether Beka can see past his own pain to recognize it.

"I…" he starts to say, then swallows hard. "I told you before. You were my first lover. I had… strong feelings about that."

"And now?" Yuri prompts. These two idiots will dance around the issue forever, and that's very much unlike Beka.

"Fuck you, Yura," Beka says. "Jean, I love you, all right? I always have, since we met. But you always seemed to have your eye on something or someone else. First, it was training hard enough to be King JJ. Then it was Isabella. And then it was winning everything you could win. Except for one thing. You never tried to win _me_."

"I didn't," JJ says, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Beks. Can I try again?"

"But you don't need to," Beka says in seeming surprise. "Haven't you figured it out yet? You won me a long time ago. All that's left is for you to claim your prize."

JJ dips his head down and kisses Beka again.

"I love you too," he says, very softly. "I'm so sorry, Otabek. I didn't mean to break your heart."

"You were just an idiot," Yuri prompts again.

"The biggest," JJ agrees, running his fingers over Beka's face like he's never seen him before. "Please. Forgive me?"

"No," Yuri interrupts, "that's not what we want. We want _you_ , Jean-Jacques, all of you, with no reservations. Boyfriends for real."

"All three of us?" he asks, face shocked. "That… but it isn't…"

"Do you want me?" Yuri asks.

JJ nods.

"I do," he says solemnly.

"And do you want Beka?" he finishes.

JJ glances at Beka, and Yuri's heart clutches for a second, like it's ready to stop. Then JJ smiles, long, drawn-out and slow, and Yuri's heart kicks back into gear. Now he knows it's going to be all right.

"I do," JJ repeats.

"Are you gonna forget Izzy? And anyone else?" Yuri asks.

"I already have," JJ says, giving them both the same look of soft emotion.

It's funny, that it all started with a webcam and thin hotel room walls, but Yuri thinks maybe all three of them won gold after all.

END.


	14. Epilogue

**June 17, 2016, St. Petersburg, Russia**

Yuri's always liked spending as much of his free time as possible on the internet, but not this time. Except for his cat, Potya, Yuri's alone in Lilia's giant house, and _everyone_ —from Yakov and Lilia to Yuri's own grandpa—is at that fat pig and Viktor's wedding, and Yuri's not invited.

Well, that's not technically true: he received an invite from Viktor directly, but Beka had snatched it out of his hands all Harry Potter style, and gone, _no, you may not, you've done enough_ and then it was in pieces in the trash.

Which is how Yuri finds himself sprawling on his bed, petting his cat, while the opening bars of the Wedding March play.

He doesn't understand the point of that, except that JJ—and only JJ, damn Beka—is surreptitiously texting him updates so he can sort of participate besides the live stream. Because Viktor _had_ to live stream his fucking wedding, for Christ's sake, Yuri had yelled, and JJ had winced at the misuse of "Christ." He's getting better, but habits are hard to break, and Yuri is thankful that JJ didn't break a different habit: namely, fucking him and Beka.

_It's symbolic_ , JJ had texted moments earlier, because both Fat Katsudon and Smug Bastard are wearing white tuxes and already standing in front of the justice of the peace. So something about playing the music even though no one's walking down any aisles, which is typical of Smug Bastard and stupid as shit. Day old shit, even.

Yuri grinds his teeth. He ignores the two stupid grooms in favor of staring at Beka and JJ, who are seated together, and sticks out his tongue at the back of Fat Katsudon's head. He's just being a child, refusing to let Yuri come to the wedding but inviting _both_ of his boyfriends. Which he knows perfectly well they are, too, because damn Smug Bastard can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

Unfortunately, the wedding is boring as fuck. So Yuri balances his phone against his pillow and buries his face in Potya's fur. He remembers the last few months, from Christmas at JJ's house with his umpteen siblings to his seventeenth birthday, spent at Beka's club in Almaty with JJ in attendance. JJ had to take time off from school and everything, but he'd insisted that Yuri's birthday was something he _needed_ to celebrate.

They'd had another threeway afterwards, drunk on booze—no absinthe for Yuri, ever again, Beka had insisted and Yuri had concurred—and playing with each other's hair after they came all over it. Yuri had mapped out Beka's dragon tattoo with his mouth, leaving behind the prints of his teeth, and JJ had stood up at one point, totally wasted, and pointed at his dick with both hands.

"It's a _Prince_ Albert, get it? 'Cause I'm a fucking _king_."

"Get down here," Yuri had said, and bit the piercing. JJ had trembled and shook and as soon as he was finished coming, he'd passed out.

They had spitroasted _JJ_ that time, when he woke up, a little less drunk but no less horny. Yuri remembers those times with fondness.

There were tricky, bad times too: like when Isabella took JJ to court for civil damages to _her reputation_ and showed up in the courtroom with pictures of JJ _in flagrante delicto_ with both Yuri _and_ Beka. JJ had countersued, and they settled out of court for an obscene amount of money that JJ's parents paid because they didn't want the photos of their good Catholic boy to be published worldwide. The three of them still don't know where—or how—she got them.

Despite the fact that the pictures almost got them into huge trouble, it hasn't stopped JJ from taking them. He took one twenty minutes before the ceremony started, in fact, of his dick hanging out of his suit pants and the top of Beka's head inches away from it in some random bathroom.

Yuri's still recovering from that.

Yuri still hasn't forgiven JJ for winning gold at Worlds this past season, but other than for skating reasons, he's kept himself out of the papers, and his grandpa has sent emoji messages about how happy he is about it.

But maybe the best thing of all is that now JJ speaks French in bed _all the time_ because he knows it gets both Beka _and_ Yuri hot. He especially likes to whisper, _I'm gay_ , in their ears. It took him forever to admit to it, but now that he has, he can't seem to _stop_ saying it. It would be tiresome if it wasn't so adorable. Yuri still hates himself for finding _anything_ about JJ adorable.

Yuri smiles into his kitty's fur. He might be stuck in St. Petersburg, but he's not totally alone, and he's got a surprise for his boyfriends when they meet up for JJ's birthday in July.

He sticks his hand in his pants and presses on the bandage, covering an artistically drawn linked teddy bear and maple leaf tattoo on his hip. He put it on the opposite one from JJ's kitten tattoo, and Yuri already plans to convince Beka to get another tattoo as well.

Plus, once Yakov and Lilia survived the horror of his nipple rings, they let Mila take him to get it done.

"I will cherish him and only him forever," Vitya is saying, and Yuri glances at his phone. Chris is Smug Bastard's best man, and Yuri doesn't think that the wink he gives both of them is _at all_ subtle.

_i don't see why i'm blacklisted when chris is fucking them both!_ he texts JJ.

_Because you encroached,_ reads the text back to him, and Yuri groans, because he can tell it's from Beka. Busted!

Yuri clinks his new tongue ring—that no one knows about but him—against his teeth and smiles.

At the bottom of every message they send, it says the same thing:

_all our love_.


	15. Epilogue #2

**Montréal, JJ's hometown, July 13**

"You should just move in with me," says JJ, as they lie on the roof of the high school in his hometown. It's July, just days before his birthday, and his parents paid for Yuri and Beka to come stay. "I'm getting my own apartment soon. My parents are paying first and last month's rent, and if you wanted…"

"Are we ready for that, though?" Yuri asks. He's mellowed some since he had another birthday, and he can even sometimes admit that he likes JJ. JJ will say that he whispers "I love you" in Russian when they fuck, or more accurately, when Yuri thinks JJ's asleep.

Yuri knows that JJ knows because Beka, the sneaky bastard, has known Russian all along and told JJ so. Yuri didn't speak to him for an entire two hours, twelve minutes, and 43 seconds before he couldn't stand it anymore.

"I don't think so," Beka says, staring up at the blue, blue sky. There are fluffy white clouds scuttling across the blue expanse, and in the warmth of the summertime, everything seems free and easy.

"But you could be," JJ posits, voice going soft and faintly hurt. Yuri surprises himself by jumping in to say,

"It's okay, JJ. I don't think Beka intends to—"

"I'm sorry, Jean," Beka breaks in. One of the most amusing things about their polyamorous relationship is that they spend all of their time either interrupting each other or finishing each other's sentences. "I know this is your week."

After Fat Katsudon and Balding Bastard got married, they announced that Christophe Giacometti would be coming to stay with them periodically, and it had led to discussions between Yuri, Beka, and JJ.

Eventually it was decided that whenever one of them visited the other, they got a maximum of one week with the other person. So if Yuri went to Almaty, he had a week with Beka. If Beka went to Montréal—and sometimes Yuri swears he's always there—then he had a week with JJ.

And if the three of them were all in one place, whoever's home country it was got the focus on them for a week. Especially since it's JJ's birthday, and Beka and Yuri are on his turf, it's his week. Which means last night Yuri fucked JJ while he bit the pillows, and why tonight it's Beka's turn to do whatever JJ wants done to him. After that, they can share as much as they want.

But for now they're trying not to think about sex, because Beka insists that any good relationship has to be able to sustain itself on things besides just physical lust.

Still, Yuri can't help himself when he points upward and crows,

"Look at that cloud! It looks just like a spurting dick!"

Both JJ and Beka turn their eyes to where he's pointing, and suddenly JJ is laughing as if his offer to house them all in one place wasn't just rejected.

"And that one looks like Pac Man about to eat a ghost," JJ says. Pretty soon they've all gotten into the game, watching the clouds and squealing about funny shapes.

"That cloud looks like a snowman," Beka says in his quiet voice. Yuri laughs, for once feeling wild and carefree. Since he spent that month in treatment for anorexia, life has seemed just slightly brighter. He still doesn't eat enough, but he's coming to terms with his body broadening and changing, and having to relearn the jumps now. It's led to both Beka and JJ beating him in competitions, which Yuri doesn't mind so much because it keeps Balding Bastard or Fat Katsudon from winning them.

"I really love you guys," JJ says suddenly. "It looks like a heart, see? And those striations make it look like it's divided into thirds. It's us. It's a sign."

Beka rolls over and bites the maple leaf tattoo on JJ's bicep.

"Someday, Jean, we'll be together all the time. But it's not time yet. Yura has to train with Yakov and Lilia. His career is still at the beginning of the track."

"But we do it together," Yuri interjects. "Beka, you are not allowed to move in with JJ when you retire, even if he's got the space. I'm not willing to be thousands of miles away from _both_ of you, and when you could forget about me."

JJ twists onto _his_ side and traces the tattoo peeking out of Yuri's jeans—he likes to wear them low on his hips.

"We could never—" JJ starts.

"—forget you," Beka finishes. "But you're right."

"Of course I want you to live with me too," JJ says, "that's why I suggested it now. You could train here—"

"—but he can't just uproot himself during his career," Beka says.

"Why not?" JJ asks. "We did it. Hell, you spent that time with me in Colorado, remember, Beks?"

"Like I could forget," Beka says with a small smile. "It was a pretty formative time for me. That stupid enormous crush I had on this giant idiot."

"Well, the giant idiot is your boyfriend now, so maybe you shouldn't call him names," JJ says, laughter in his voice.

"I really can't, though, JJ. I'm sorry. But I've been training with Lilia and Yakov all this time… and my grandpa…"

"Oh, right." JJ looks chastened. "I should have remembered you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible."

"He's not sick," Yuri is quick to say, "but he is old. And it would be difficult to move my cat."

JJ and Beka both laugh.

"I think he loves that cat—" Beka says,

"—more than he loves us," JJ adds.

"That isn't true, doofus number one and doofus number two," Yuri says, hanging over JJ to poke Beka in the ab muscles. "Jesus Christ on a yellow bicycle," he says, "I think I broke my finger. Lol."

"Did you just use netspeak out loud?" Beka asks. JJ starts guffawing, his most obnoxious laugh—one that Yuri'd never heard until Isabella broke up with him and he started dating them full time.

"What of it?" Yuri glares, but JJ just laughs harder.

"It's strange," Beka says, watching the clouds again. "I still can't believe Isabella married one of your Angels, Yura."

"Trust me, I know," Yuri says, and then the three of them break up laughing again.

The truth is, the last thing any of them ever expected to happen was for Isabella to fall in love with another woman. Wow, what a scandal for her parents when she left the church.

"Forget Izzy," JJ says. "I never need to think about her again if I don't want to. I have you two."

" _Je t'aime_ ," Yuri says, and maybe it's the sun off the blacktop on the roof, or maybe it's just JJ's grin that's blinding him.

Yuri wants to believe. In them. In their future. And he does.

End. (for real this time)

p.s. unless I add more fics in this universe, which might happen.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see this note, thank you so much for reading! I know it was a time investment ♥


End file.
